


Witness

by AriesReign



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesReign/pseuds/AriesReign
Summary: Not all is as it seems as enemies from Riggs' past come seeking revenge for a lost love one. Riggs must battle his personal demons and the bad guys all while keeping a witness safe from the men hunting her. Plenty of hurt/comfort and Riggs whump throughout.





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the next piece I'm working on. I have quite a bit planned out. However, I am not sure how many chapters will be needed to tell the story.
> 
> Riggs whump throughout, Enjoy! All reviews are welcome and appreciated. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> I own nothing.

Rain dribbled from the sky mixing with the tears and snot falling from the beaten man kneeling in the mud. He was sniveling now, drenched and pleading between strained intakes of breath.

"Please? Please don't kill me?"

Thunder crackled through the sky and drowned out the man's worthless words. He dipped his head to the muddy ground and repeated his plea.

A swift kick to his chest put the helpless man onto his back, the mud lapping hungrily at the edges of his drenched slacks.

"Ronnie, you betrayed us. You sold us out, and now you have to pay the price."

The subsequent sniveling was cut off by another roar of thunder.

"Look, it's not you. It's me; I just can't seem to forgive these days. It's a character flaw, I know, but I'm working on it. I guess I could be trying harder. But, your role in this is bigger than just sending a very precise and gruesome message. You are the first piece in my grand plan. You should be honored to be helping the family in such a manner."

The sharp clap of more thunder and the slash of light across the horizon hid the sound of gunfire as Ronnie's head slapped the sodden dirt.

The crumpled legs and lifeless form were a sign of what was to come but served as a morbid reminder of the circumstances that had started it all.

People had as many reactions to death as there were ways to die, but when a loved one was senselessly ripped from this world right before your eyes, the response was simple; revenge.

It had taken three years to find the man responsible, three years to finally begin the arduous challenge of bringing the detective to justice.

A younger brother was precious, a man that would take that away would have to suffer and today marked the start of that undertaking. Today was the beginning of the end for Detective, Martin Riggs.

The rolling thunder was replaced by the sudden slosh of mud and flesh colliding. The intrusion pulled all thought away from revenge and Ronnie's cooling corpse to much more pressing matters.

Adding another body to the count wouldn't be much of a problem, whoever had been unlucky enough to stumble upon this particular construction site at this specific moment was surely the most unfortunate of people.

The bullpen was unusually quiet aside from the invasive sound of crumpling paper.

Riggs postured from his seat upon Roger's desk and cradled the small makeshift ball in his palm, readying his next shot. His target the trashcan positioned just outside Avery's office.

"Woooooo, you see that, Rog?!" Riggs whistled at his handiwork as the paper landed center mass of the waste basket.

He crushed another sheet into its more aerodynamic form and lined up his next shot.

"Could you not?" An annoyed Roger pleaded while rubbing circles in his temples.

"Not what?" Riggs asked, his voice dipped in a slight Texas drawl.

"Crumple paper right by my head. Go be frustrating somewhere else." Roger ordered harshly.

"Jeez, Rog. You've been in a mood since you pulled in this morning." Riggs absentmindedly tossed the paper ball into the air, catching it again before repeating the motion. He glanced at the clock sitting silently on the wall "and considering we have only been here for all of twenty minutes I know it wasn't something I did…or was it?"

"It's been a rough night. The baby has an ear infection; Trish and I can't seem to settle her. No one is getting much sleep at the Murtaugh residence. The kids are exhausted, Trish is on edge, and I put coffee, instead of milk, in my cereal this morning." Roger complained between sips of the brown liquid in his mug.

"Maybe we will get a nice quiet day in the office, no crime, just paperwork." Riggs tossed the paper projectile towards its target just as Avery made his way through the door. The paper bounced unceremoniously into Avery's exposed coffee cup with a plop.

The room froze for a moment before Riggs broke the silence.

"Uhh, Captain, you got a little something in your…"

"Yes, I noticed. Thank you, Riggs. Off the desk!" He sighed, a slight bite to his tone. "I never thought I would say this, but thank God we had a case come in. Otherwise, we may end up with a homicide right here in the office."

Riggs offered an innocent smile in apology.

"Body at the construction site on Gallardo. Scorsese is en route, meet him over there."

"Cant Cruz and Bailey get it? Hell, even Scorsese has shown interest in playing detective." Roger complained.

"Oh, come on, Rog. Some fresh air will do you good." Riggs swiped the keys from Roger's desk and tossed them to his partner as he darted for the exit; pleased to have something to do as Roger trailed less enthusiastically behind him.

Warm bodies bustled over the streets surrounding the yellow police tape. Most spared a glance or two to the manic motion happening within its confines.

A gathering was beginning to mature along the restricting tapes borders as the more inquisitive studied the proceedings.

Riggs pushed past the crowd showing his credentials and raising the yellow tape for his partner. He strode over to Scorsese; the man enveloped in the task at hand.

"What we got?" Riggs inquired looking over the mud-covered body lying still in the dirt.

"we have a mess. It rained heavily last night, a lot of our evidence will have been washed away in the storm. We do have a bullet. Small caliber, shot to the head. 9mm from close range. Unfortunately, we will have to get him back to the lab to get to it…since it's still inside his head."

"Any identification on the body?" Roger chimed in.

"Wallet with a driver's license, a Ronald B. Walker," Scorsese added.

Riggs' eyes wandered from the victim to the crowd. The rest of the conversation lost to him. The sea of colorful movement shifted as his gaze caught on something familiar.

A set of enchanting almond eyes pierced the monotony of all others as they met his. The panic and uncertainty resting within them twisted his stomach into knots.

"Miranda?" He whispered uncertainly. His feet frozen to the ground.

The woman seemed to want to call to him, to get his attention somehow. Her gaze abruptly changed direction as if she had changed her mind.

He followed the familiar eyes and gentle face framed by waves of ebony as the woman fearfully peered behind her.

Riggs tracked her line of sight, noticing the unfriendly stalkers closing in on the woman. It didn't take a second thought to push him from stillness to motion.

He rushed in the woman's direction, hurdling the tape as he made headway. He scanned the bodies moving around the scene. Three men had begun to quicken their pace, trailing the mysterious woman as she took off in the opposite direction.

He followed at a sprint, gaining ground on the closest of the assailants. A sharp turn put them in the confines of an alleyway occupied by a lone dumpster.

He barreled forward and dove, landing hard against the man beneath him. A harsh snap followed by a shrill scream indicated something attached to his target had not remained intact during the scuffle.

Riggs found his feet, a quick glance to the other side of the alley forced him to end his altercation with the man still on the ground. He did so with a swift kick to his jaw and brought the gun from the rim of his jeans to the heads of the men still posing an imminent threat.

"Hey!" He yelled to gain their attention.

The barrels of two mid-caliber pistols shifted from the woman sobbing against the wall to level at his chest.

"Now, Fellas, that ain't no way to pick up a lady. How about we drop them guns and talk this out." A smile accompanied his words, but his sandy brown eyes held the fury his tone concealed.

He held his Baretta unwavering. Choosing to target the man closest to the dark haired woman.

Silence rang out between them, the two men unrelenting. The man closest to the woman spoke first.

"You're outnumbered, why don't you put your gun down?" He mocked.

Riggs forced a breath to the ground and shattered the silence with a laugh. The action pushed the first gunman out of his inactive trance as he fired in Riggs' direction.

Riggs leaped diagonally as he took a shot of his own, the first man fell to the ground as Riggs closed the distance between them.

The screams of the woman now curled in a heap on the ground pushed the urgency to end the scuffle quickly.

A shot went wide as he fired his own, his bullet tearing through the shoulder of the last man standing forcing him to drop his weapon.

The gunman threw a wild punch towards Rigg's head. He parried easily and brought his balled fist to the man's solar plexus, as the criminal crumpled in half Riggs delivered a sharp elbow to his temple dropping him to the concrete.

He stared at the form lying unconscious in the alley, hesitant to bring his gaze upwards.

A voice shattered the prospect as it rang out in concern.

"You're bleeding!"

Rigg's caught a glimpse of the captivating umber bulbs as they rose to his own. The face that sat behind them was not Miranda's, but the resemblance was unsettling all the same.

He tore his eyes from the woman attempting to push the disturbing pain rising from the pit of his stomach to the stinging sensation developing in his thigh.

"Hm, I…Oh, I guess I am. It's just a scratch." He deflected as he ran a hand through his hair and looked at his shoes. Anywhere but at those eyes. "are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"I'm fine; just a bit shook up. You should get that looked at." She suggested, gesturing to his leg.

Riggs glanced up awkwardly before resetting his gaze back on the ground; he rubbed the back of his head desperate for a way to avoid conversation.

"I, uh…"

"Riggs! What the hell, man?! You just sprint off and start shooting?! You do know it's a Monday, right? That's way too much paperwork for a Monday." Roger panted as he made his way down the alley. "You're bleeding." He stated as he noticed the woman standing beside the wall and the blood oozing from Riggs' thigh simultaneously.

"What happened?" Roger directed at his partner.

"These men were after her." He nodded to the dead, or otherwise incapacitated bodies dispersed around the alleyway, then to the lady standing opposite him. He was certain his somber demeanor would pose questions, but he was not yet ready to address the emotions bubbling to the surface, so he forced them away with a smile.

"This is, uh, sorry. I didn't catch your name between all the gunfire and screaming." He looked up to the woman in question without a hint of what lay beneath the surface.

"I'm Mindy. Mindy Delgato." She said by way of greeting, nodding to both men in unison.

"Mindy, here..." Riggs gestured his hand in Mindy's direction while tilting his head towards Roger. "...Is our witness."

Roger offered him a skeptical glance, followed by a brief opening and closing of his mouth.

"He's right; I saw the man at the construction site last night." She supplemented, clearly impressed at Riggs' deductive skills.

Amused by Rogers stunned silence he added,

"She was hanging around the scene, looked like she wanted to get someone's attention, but these goons got to her first."

"Okay Mindy, Let's get you out of here and to somewhere safe," Roger suggested glancing once more at Riggs' leg.

Riggs gave his partner a shake of his head letting him know he didn't need a bus as they made their way back to the station.

He heard Roger request officers to the new crime scene to pick up the perps and contain the area as he focused on the sharp sensation tugging at the skin on his thigh with each step. The pain dulled the less desirable thoughts circling his mind.

Roger stared wide-eyed at his partner as Riggs wrapped the gash in his leg with duct tape. He wasn't quite sure how to intervene, but by the looks Riggs was receiving from his colleagues Roger wasn't the only one concerned by the action.

"Riggs, what the hell are you doing?" Avery inquired disbelievingly.

"Didn't have a big enough band-aid, Captain." He replied innocently.

"Oh no, get your ass down to Scorsese. He can patch you up. I refuse to do the paperwork if you die of sepsis." The Captain complained, his concern moderately well hidden behind the bite of his tone.

Riggs' hopped off the desk and hobbled to the elevator.

"You need company?" Roger called after him.

"Nah, I'm good Rog. But it's sweet of you to worry." Riggs waived him off.

Roger rolled his eyes. Something was bothering his partner, he had been removed and on edge since leaving the crime scene, and it was unsettling. Whatever he was hiding behind false bravado and smiles would have to come to the surface eventually.

"He always like that?" Mindy asked.

"This is him subdued; you should see him after a few cups of coffee." Roger jested.

"I didn't get a chance to thank him for saving me from those men. He dove through all that gunfire as if he was bulletproof."

"He does that. Don't worry; you can thank him when he gets back. There's no stopping him once we catch a case. A bullet graze won't even slow him down." Roger added hoping that the physical trauma his partner was dealing with was the only pain he was suppressing. However, he somehow felt that wasn't the case.

"Murtaugh, there's a safe house set up for the witness. Since you and Riggs have already met Miss Delgato, you can be the ones to stay with her. There will be uniforms patrolling the area, but keep an eye out. Watch your backs." Avery warned.

"If we are on protection duty, who's running the leads, Captain?"

"I have Bailey and Cruz doing the heavy lifting on this one. Just keep Riggs stationary for a while, will you? He can play tough all he likes, but he hasn't been cleared for the field."

"That's never stopped him before."

"That's why you will be keeping him busy at the safe house."

"He's not gonna like this," Roger complained.

"He doesn't have to like it. Keep him there, Murtaugh. That's an order." Avery lined his tone with enough stern conviction to warrant no argument.

"How long will I have to stay in protective custody?" Mindy chimed in nervously.

"I'm sure it won't be long, with the description you gave us and your testimony this guy will be behind bars before you can say 'witness.'"

Mindy offered him a shy smile in response.

"What do you say we go check on my bulletproof partner? I'm sure he's driving Scorsese mad right about now." Roger suggested as he led the way to the lab.

"Riggs, Sit still!" Scorsese sighed in frustration.

Riggs attempted to still himself as he sat on the metal examiners bench in his boxers while Scorsese finished dressing his thigh, his eyes darting to the hallway every so often.

"Jeez, Scorsese. How can I sit still when you have this damn table at minus thirty degrees; I can't feel my legs, it's so cold." Riggs complained.

"You can't feel your leg because I numbed it before I put the stitches in, but I'm starting to wish that I hadn't."

Roger smirked as his partner's expense. He had noticed the many glances to the door and wondered why his partner was so eager to leave.

"Did he really try to fix this with duct tape?" The pathologist asked in amusement.

"Yup, and I'm not even sure if that's the dumbest thing he's done today," Roger remarked, throwing a mocking glance towards his partner.

"Alright, lesson learned. Next time I will go with glue. Scorsese, you get anything on the vic?" Riggs' redirected.

"Plenty of brain soup, the 9mm bounced around in his skull leaving a complete mess in its wake. I haven't gone through all the evidence yet. Maybe I would be able to get more done if I didn't have to keep tending to the living."

"you know, I think the tape has a better bedside manner than you." Riggs crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Scorsese in challenge.

"Stop getting shot, and you won't have to deal with either." Roger taunted.

The sound of gagging and liquid hitting the cold tile brought their attention to the woman waiting In the hallway.

Roger made his way over to Mindy; she stood bent at the waist wiping puke from the corner of her mouth.

"I'm so sorry; It was the description of the dead guy. I'm not good with gory details." She looked to Roger sheepishly.

"It's okay, Mindy. It's not your fault. It's Scorsese's." He raised his voice at the name and peered back into the room to glare at the man.

"What? Wait, no. Guys?" Scorsese stumbled as Riggs pulled his jeans back into place and made his way over to Roger.

"Hey, Guys! You can't leave that there! Come on?!" Scorsese pleaded to his colleagues' backs.

Roger let the smile consume his face as they left a struggling Scorsese to deal with the mess outside his workspace.

"You know we are gonna have to get him a fruit basket or something for that one, right?" Riggs mentioned.

"Yeah, maybe two." Roger laughed and offered a sympathetic glance to Mindy as she walked beside them.

He decided he would wait a while longer before letting Rigg's know of their newest assignment. Something about his partner seemed off, and Roger wanted to know what had him so rattled before he gave him something else to fret about.

He could feel the lack of sleep taking its toll and refocused his thoughts on finding a fresh cup of coffee.


	2. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of a character from my story 'Rope' in this one. I needed an informant and just borrowed him for a moment. If you haven't read 'Rope' you won't be lost. I Just thought I would give you a heads up.

Riggs sat rigidly on the hard bar stool occupying the kitchen countertop, his eyes boring holes into the back of his partner's head. Occasionally he would glance over to where Mindy had made herself at home on the lumpy plaid couch but would catch himself each time he lingered too long in her direction.

The small kitchen blended into the family room offering inadequate space for the three of them to move comfortably and just as little for the family part the name suggested.

"I can feel you staring at the back of my head," Roger complained while putting together the puzzle that composed his sandwich. The meager contents contained only what had been left by the delightful officers that stocked the safe house fridge.

"I'm not staring Rog. I am simply contemplating how we got shafted into babysitting over finding the bad guys," Riggs kept his eyes on Roger but addressed Mindy. "No offense."

"None taken." Mindy half grinned, and half shrugged as she let her response out between large bites of her sandwich.

Roger turned to the muffled sound and shot Riggs a curious look. "You, er...hungry there, Miss Delgato?"

"Oh, yes sorry, I," Mindy swallowed the large mouthful of bread and turkey before finishing her sentence. "I didn't get much of a chance to eat between stumbling on a guy shooting another guy and being chased by a bunch of other guys. And it's Mindy; you can call me Mindy." She smiled awkwardly.

Riggs made the mistake of turning in her direction as she spoke. Her innocent smile and the way her hair wrapped around her shoulders reminded him of another time.

The room around him vanished, instead, he saw the faint outline of his wife sitting at the dining room table of their home.

IN-N-OUT Burger containers sat empty beside her, her cheeks full of the greasy substance as she looked across the table eyeing the food in his hands as she did so. He Smiled at her as she asked if he was going to finish his sandwich. Her words forced out between munches. He brought the burger away from his mouth and rested his forearms on the table, a grin tugging at his lips and a chuckle in his throat.

"Well, you are eating for two now." He mentioned as he handed over the tasty prize. "Just don't overdo it, I'm not rolling you around if you get too fat." This time he couldn't hold back the laughter and was rewarded with a falsely indignant scowl.

Miranda grabbed ahold of the many ketchup packets littering the table and tossed them at her deserving husband. He dodged the barrage as best he could, taking a few well-aimed shots to the head.

The laughter built until the floor was littered with ketchup packets and Miranda had fought her way into his arms. Her beautifully brown eyes staring into his own.

"I love you, Mrs. Riggs."

"I love you, Mr. Riggs." She replied as she kissed him.

"Even if you do get fat." He added. He fully expected the shove that almost knocked him off his feet.

The echo of laughter and longing rolled through the room and faded away as the paltry contents of the safe house settled around him once more.

Riggs shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his head, his hair falling slightly to the side. His mouth hung slightly agape at the vivid memory as he attempted his best to shrug off the yearning sensation rising in the pit of his chest.

"Well, you must need some real food, Mindy." Riggs offered in an attempt to deflect any confused glances at his demeanor. He hopped off his perch feeling only a slight pull on his stitches as he strode toward the door. "I will pick us up some take out. I hear there's a great place around the corner..."

"Oh, no you don't. Sit your butt back on that stool!" Roger chided. "You know full well why we are here. Besides, if anyone were to find us, you and I are the only things standing between Mindy and the bad guys with guns."

Riggs plopped back onto the stool. He really needed some fresh air, but Roger was right. This may not be the assignment he wanted, for reasons he didn't feel like sharing, but it wasn't any less important than hunting down leads and suspects pertaining to the case.

Roger seemed to sense his unease as his tone lifted slightly. "Here, why don't we order some takeout? What's the name of that place you heard about?" He directed the question to Riggs but got no response.

"Riggs!" Roger repeated.

"hmmm?" it wasn't that Riggs couldn't hear his partner, he just needed a moment to compose himself. "I'm gonna hit the hay. You take the first shift." He left Roger and Mindy in confused silence as he made his way to one of the small bedrooms.

The short and narrow hallway shrouded in peach pinstripe wallpaper opened to a moderately large bedroom. Its contents composed of a shallow bed lined in sheets that matched the poorly chosen wall décor.

Riggs shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the mattress. Sleep wouldn't be granting him any mercy for a while, and there was no beer to be had in the dingy accommodations, so he decided to make the most of his alone time.

He placed his Barretta on the bedside table and pulled out his phone, lingering on Miranda's image composing the lock screen before swiping the cell open. He pulled up Bailey's number and sent a message asking for any leads on the Walker case. He did the same with Scorsese before bringing his attention to the ceiling.

A variety of plastic stars and planets lined the spackled ceiling, faintly illuminating the room. Riggs let his mind drift to the tenants who had occupied the space before it was commandeered as an LAPD safe house. He cringed slightly at their taste and drifted into restless slumber remembering the house he and Miranda had readied for their new arrival that never got the chance to arrive.

Riggs woke with a start to the subtle shifting of the mattress beneath him. He pulled his gun from beside his head and aimed it at the disturbance in one swift motion.

A muffled shriek left Mindy's lips as the gun landed between her eyes. Her hands rose above her head as the coffee cup between her fingers crashed to the carpet. Her eyes wide in surprise.

Riggs placed the gun into the back of his jeans with a sigh. "Sorry about that." He huffed, moving to clean up the mess he had, in part, caused. The unwelcome intrusion the last thing he needed.

"Erm, no. I'm sorry. I shouldn't of…I just, you seemed upset earlier. I wanted to apologize. I'm sure the last thing you want to be doing right now is babysitting some dumb witness." She blew out a nervous breath. "I brought you coffee, well, it was coffee…now it's just an empty cup. Let me go get another." Mindy moved to lift the mug from the floor.

"No, it's fine. I must seem incredibly insensitive. Here you are; in the company of two strangers and left in this place for an indeterminate amount of time with none of the comforts of home and not even a hot meal. I'm sorry, Mindy. It's not your fault we're here, and I've been a terrible babysitter." Riggs played with the hair on the back of his head and looked at the coffee stained carpet.

"Did you lose someone?" Mindy asked abruptly.

"I'm sorry?" Riggs asked defensively. He brought his eyes to meet Mindy's; they greeted him with regret and understanding.

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have, I'm sorry, again. It's just…a few years back I lost someone I cared about, and well, I was a lot like you are now. I couldn't focus on things right in front of me; it was hard to do anything. If I hadn't engrossed myself in other things, I would never have come out of it. You kind of build a shell, you know? It keeps growing until you shut out everyone who still bothers to ask if you are okay. Eventually, you close yourself in so many layers that no one can get in, but you can't get out either." She caught herself and nervously shifted her gaze to the empty cup now resting in her hands.

Riggs kept his gaze on the brown liquid as it bled into the fibers of the carpet. Mindy's grasp on the nuances of loss only touched the surface, but they were accurate all the same.

"Thank you…for the coffee." Riggs offered a half smile and for the first time, really looked at Mindy. She shared the stunningly full, brown eyes and ebony locks that Miranda possessed, but there was a beauty present that was her's alone. Her overtly unintimidating demeanor and inimitable mannerisms held a certain charm about them.

She gave him a slight curtsy, looked immediately regretful of the awkward action, and quickly turned on her heel, hurrying out of the room.

Riggs laughed aloud in earnest for the first time since picking up the case.

His phone vibrated, redirecting his attention. Bailey's name lit the caller ID screen.

"Riggs" He answered briskly.

"Hey, thought we should let you know. We got an address on the vic. It turns out the guy was a low-level runner for the Parez family. He had a bunch of addresses and numbers pertaining to the family drug running and smuggling business. They are relatively new to LA and already have deep ties to Pirus, The Sinaloa Cartel, and The Azusa 13, just to name a few. They started in Texas, figured you might know…"

"Yeah, I do. Had a run in with the Parez brothers three years ago; we raided a massive drug smuggling operation in Texas. A lot of their guys were taken out, including Damian Parez' youngest brother. The middle brother, Mickey, was taken in, he's serving two life sentences at Wheeler. I was on their tail for a long time, when we finally brought them down, Damian was nowhere to be found. He's most likely the one heading up the operation here in LA."

"How you wanna do this?" Bailey prodded.

"See if you can get me a list of the Parez family's preferred meeting spots. Talk to Buddy; he knows the circles these guys run in. He may not be forthcoming, take Cruz with you just in case. And he prefers to be called Beatrice." Riggs ended the call and headed back to the not so family room.

Mindy was making a fresh cup of coffee and averted her eyes as he entered the room, she still seemed slightly abashed of her earlier unorthodox exit.

"Sleep any?" Roger asked.

"Some. I got a call from Bailey. Turns out Ronald Walker was a runner for the Parez family. I'm thinking the way he was killed, execution style and left in the open like that; he had to be a snitch."

"You think he was talking to the cops?"

"Or a rival gang. Either way, he was meant as a message. The Parez brothers were known for their position on snitches back in Texas, and it wasn't friendly." Riggs shrugged. "Bailey and Cruz are going to see if Buddy knows anything about Damian Parez' whereabouts. I say we pay his favorite spots a visit and see what we find."

"And how are we supposed to do that from here? We are meant to be laying low, protecting the witness. Remember?" Roger flailed his arms in disbelief, gesturing to Mindy and the space around them.

"It's a collaborative effort, Rog. You stay here with Mindy and protect to your heart's content, while I check out Parez known meeting spots." Riggs looked to Roger in anticipation.

Roger stood stunned into stillness for a few moments.

"Mindy, could you turn away for a second, please? I'm going to shoot my stupid partner in the leg." Roger threatened.

"Somebody beat you to that one Rog. And what? You need an upgrade from shooting me in the foot?" Riggs asked leaning against the kitchen wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"You shot him in the foot?" Mindy asked confused.

"That's not the point!" Roger replied. His tone hitching a few notches.

"I feel like it should be." Riggs shot back in feigned offense. Deciding to further his advantage while his partner was in such an irate state. "Of course, we could all go together. Mindy could even point out Damian if he's the killer."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Rodger's face turned a familiar shade of red, his hands flailing around him.

"That is the exact opposite of what we are supposed to be doing!" Roger yelled animatedly.

"Your right, I will just go alone then," Riggs added calmly and headed to the door.

"Damn right! You can't endanger the witness by taking her to the suspect's door, what the hell are you thinking. That's right you don't…" His partner yelled to his back as Riggs left through the front door.

He heard the distinct curse as Roger realized that he had just been played. Riggs figured he had time to check out several leads before he had to head back. After all, what could happen in a few hours?

Riggs took the bag of burgers and fries from the girl at the drive through. He placed the drinks on the center console and lay the large bag of food on the passenger seat. At least he was coming back with something; Roger couldn't stay mad at him if he handed him a hot meal, well a warm meal, probably a cold one by the time he got back to the safe house, but it was the thought that count.

His cell chimed as he pulled out of the lot and into the busy LA street. He read the text from Bailey listing four addresses and the text 'we will take the first two'.

He scanned the information and smiled when he landed on the third listing. He was familiar with the place; an old factory that he and Roger had been to before; last time on a trafficking tip that turned out to be a bust. He hoped he would have more luck this time.

The traffic flow ebbed slowly as he closed in on his destination. He let his mind wander as the monotony of the break peddles frequency led him to boredom. He wondered what his partner was doing to keep himself occupied.

Riggs finally pulled into the empty lot after what seemed like hours of stop and go traffic. He studied the rundown exterior of the large warehouse. The place seemed empty enough; a few scattered trees meticulously placed around the parking spaces the only sign of life in the immediate area.

He made his way to the front of the building and was rewarded with more signs of life; these much more threatening than the trees.

Through the faded window panels that engulfed the exterior of the warehouse, he could make out four figures. All in upscale suits accessorized with assault rifles and an assortment of handguns.

The voices were too far off to make out, but the men seemed to be discussing something sitting in the center of the warehouse.

The object in question looked suspiciously like a large crate of guns. Riggs made his way to the wall and peered through the window. He could just make out a few words here and there.

"Test, guns misfire, target practice." The broken sentence faded in and out of earshot. He decided he had to get closer.

He ducked under the broken panels in the window frame and shuffled to the other side. To his fortune, a large shipping crate, piled over seven feet up, sat close to the open garage door. He slowly and soundlessly made his way to the crate and crouched stealthily in its shadow.

He felt the stitches in his thigh pull slightly and stifled the groan the action elicited. After a few baited breaths, he was confident that his presence had gone unnoticed. He focused again on the voices now coming from much closer.

"You are lucky I brought a target for the occasion." A deep baritone rolled heartily into the walls and bounced through the space between them.

"You know Mr. Parez don't mess around when it comes to weaponry. These are just as good as the last." A less confident voice answered. Frustration punctuating his sentence.

"It's never a bad idea to check, though, is it Barry?" The same deep voice barreled.

Shuffling and forced footfalls followed his statement.

"No, please? I didn't, it wasn't me! Please? You have to believe me! Ronnie acted alone; I didn't steal from you. I promise, and I definitely didn't take it to the competition. No, no, no, no. Come on? This ain't right!" The manic and high pitched plea was accompanied by the sound of rubber soles being dragged across concrete.

"Tell you what, Barry. If I miss the first shot, you can go." The deep voice chuckled.

Riggs leaned to the edge of his crate; he watched as two large men dragged who he presumed to be Barry to the wall and held him there with the threat of their Rifles. The man who was doing most of the threatening picked a gun from the crate containing a variety of semi-automatic weapons and loaded its clip.

The man's voice uncannily matched his appearance. His heavy-set frame gave his head the appearance of being just a tad too small, while his suit clung so tightly to his muscles it looked as if one quick motion could burst its seams.

"Come on Terry! This ain't me, I ain't no thief. I mean, not for anyone but you. Don't do this!" Barry pleaded one last time.

Terry shrugged and pointed the gun at a stuttering and cowering Barry.

Riggs noticed a half-used roll of duct tape discarded on the floor and remembered seeing something in a movie. He silently took two large slabs of tape and pressed them to his shoulder blades as best he could, fastening his gun to the back of his shirt.

Riggs stepped from cover just as the large man pulled the trigger, "Hey Fellas!" He greeted enthusiastically.

The intrusion forced Terry to miss his target entirely, scattering a stream of bullets into the rafters. Barry's panicked scream echoed around the warehouse.

All previously occupied barrels were realigned in Riggs' direction as he held his hand above his head and innocently eyed the man in charge.

"Oh, my bad, you guys seem to be in the middle of something. I did overhear you a moment ago, though…You missed. That mean you're gonna let that guy go?" Riggs took a step towards the garage door making sure not to display the weapon at his back.

"Don't move! Who the fuck are you?!"

Riggs pointed to himself in question, raising his shoulders and looking overly innocent.

"Just a fella who can't read directions. sorry for the intrusion." He apologized, his accent punctuating the fact that he wasn't from the area as his hands moved to rest on his head.

"Search him!" Terry nodded his head in Riggs' direction forcing his two men into action.

The well-dressed men marched within feet of Riggs person. He slowly inched his fingers towards his shoulder blades.

The loud slap of hard metal hitting concrete pierced the warehouse. For a split second, the contents of the room froze. That was the second time duct tape had failed him today; he was beginning to think that action movies fudged the truth a bit.

Riggs dropped to the ground gripping his weapon as he sat up. Shots aimed where his head had been milliseconds ago assaulted the air nearby.

He fired two quick shots center mass of the men closest to him. They crumpled in succession as Terry launched a barrage of bullets from his assault rifle to where Riggs half sat half lay across the ground.

He rolled rapidly to the side avoiding the spray of bullets and returned fire in Terry's direction.

The large man tumbled to the ground, blood blossoming from his chest, his weapon discarded.

Riggs kicked the weapons from the dead men's hands and made his way over to Barry, who lay on the floor trembling from the recent onslaught. He seemed uninjured but the wet spot spreading across his pants spoke volumes of his psychological condition.

A quick scan of his immediate surroundings alerted him to the disappearance of the fourth man. He hadn't had a chance to see the guy, but he had heard his voice. Riggs brought his full attention to the man on the ground.

Riggs tossed his cuffs to an emotionally unstable Barry. "Cuff yourself. You have the right to remain covered in urine." He added dryly.

He pulled out his cell and dialed Bailey.

"Hey, it's me. Warehouse paid off. Got three dead perps and one in cuffs. A fourth got away. It looks like Damian is dipping his toes into the illegal arms business. Need you here to secure the scene. I should get back to Roger."

With Bailey's confirmation, he pocketed the phone and brought his attention back to the man cuffed by the crate of guns.

"So, Barry is it? What can you tell me about your employers? I'm especially curious about this Damian character. He seems like a real interesting fella." Riggs teased cynically, turning one of the rifles from the crate over in his hands. "Now, this is an excellent toy. Where you get this one? I was thinking about getting one for my partner this Christmas." Riggs smiled and stared expectantly at Barry.

"I ain't talkin. I want a lawyer!" He pouted.

"You know, I'm pretty sure when you wet yourself you forfeit your right to an attorney. At least, I think that's it; I'm not sure. There are just so many rules. Who can keep up, ya know?" He looked once more to Barry, then shrugged.

Barry refused to look him in the eye, choosing, instead, to divide his attention between the bodies littering the concrete.

Riggs started to disassemble the weapon still in his hands while he waited for Bailey and Cruz to make an appearance.

He shook his head realizing that he felt more at home in a warehouse full of incapacitated criminals than a safe house with Roger and a woman who resembled his wife. He let the familiarity of the weapon in his grasp calm his nerves.

Flying bullets and multiple bad guys couldn't phase him, but Mindy? She was a whole different story.


	3. Ambush

Damian Parez eyed the weapon sitting snugly in his hands, its sharp edges and sleek lines calling to him.

He had heard the news, the thought of his men's incompetence left a sour taste in his mouth as he clutched the weapon tighter in his grasp. The only good to come of it was that they could hurry along their plans. It was pointless to wait until after the shipment of new weapons came in; the cops already knew what Damian was doing in L.A.

They could act now before the next shipment arrived and not risk any more than if they waited.

Damian had thought Ronnie's death would leave enough bread crumbs for the Detective to connect the Parez family to the case and set his entire plan into motion. What he hadn't counted on was Rigg's stumbling on one of his exchanges and taking Ronnie's partner into custody.

The thought of two of his men and just as many buyers being taken out by a single detective, the detective he had so many plans for, no less, made him cringe. He had underestimated the man, that was certain, but Detective Martin Riggs had no idea what Damian had in store for him.

He had wanted to draw out the exchange; play with his prey for a while, but he no longer had the option. If Riggs were to get too close it would risk everything he had built in L.A. He decided that how long it took no longer mattered.

There was no way the detective could get out of this one alive; Damian had sent more than half of his men and still had an ace in the hole.

He let the thought of revenge slush around his mind; as satisfying as scratching an itch. His snarl gave way to a smile as he brought his attention back to the AK-47 in his fingers.

He aimed the weapon at the man standing before him; he wouldn't pull the trigger, but Cornel didn't know that.

"Come on Damian, stop messing around." The comment was carefree but was weighed down with concealed worry.

Damian knew he scared the man. He enjoyed having complete control over the people surrounding him, more often than not that meant pointing a weapon at someone without the certainty that their blood wouldn't spill all over the floor.

His eyes locked onto Cornel's, the entire room filled with uncut tension.

Damian shattered the atmosphere with a laugh and lowered his rifle. He noted the slight loosening of Cornel's tense shoulders as he relaxed and walked towards the desk in the center of the room. He placed the gun on the table.

"The cops have Barry. How long before he talks?" Damian asked, his voice level.

"Doesn't matter, we have guys on the way." Cornel reasoned.

Damian stared at the man for a few moments; the look said what he didn't have to. If he does, you won't die quickly.

Cornel shifted his weight nervously and reconsidered. "I will take care of it."

"Good." Damian liked Cornel; he had known him since they were kids in Texas. Cornel always tried to impress him, and he guessed that's why he enjoyed having him around. Someone always chasing your shadow kept you on your toes. "Go on then!" He prompted.

He watched Cornel turn towards the door and hurry out of the room. He smiled at his friends back, he felt close to the guy, even if the man was weak, but he was glad he didn't have to rely on him for the majority of his family's operation.

He lowered himself into the dark soft leather of his desk chair and brought his attention to the family photo surrounded by a thin golden frame. The faces of his two brothers stared back at him.

"Don't worry; I will get revenge on the bastard that took you from me." He directed towards the youngest. For now, there was nothing he could do for his middle brother but kill the cop that put him away. He smiled at the thought and once again picked up the assault rifle in front of him.

He pictured his plan coming to fruition as his smile deepened. No one would deny him the pleasure of seeing Detective Martin Riggs dead.

Roger sunk further into the dingy couch. A rerun of an old show occupied the TV screen and lit the room in odd sequence.

Mindy had been getting some shut eye for the past few hours as Roger waited patiently for his partner to come back from his ridiculous excursion.

He had spent the first hour fuming at his partner's absence and the second worrying about what was taking him so long.

He had discovered that anger kept the worry at bay and had reverted to his original state of mind when Riggs hadn't returned after three hours.

The sound of footsteps across carpet pulled him from his daydream.

"Hey, any chance of coffee?" Mindy wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned loudly.

"You are in luck, just brewed a fresh pot." Roger gestured to the black liquid accumulating in the coffee pot.

"Detective Riggs back yet?" Mindy asked as she grabbed a cup and began to fill it.

"No, he's being obnoxious somewhere else. Lucky us!" Roger added with more ice in his tone than intended.

"you're worried about him?" She asked.

Roger took a sip of his coffee. Mindy was perceptive for someone who seemed hopelessly oblivious. He had noticed the resemblance that had his partner off balance; he couldn't blame Riggs for wanting to be elsewhere, considering. Facing his tragic past every time he looked at the person they were assigned to protect couldn't be easy.

Roger had given his partner a pass when he had left to hunt down Parez; he couldn't bear to see Riggs struggle for much longer and permitting him some space was sure to allow him the time he needed to regroup. Time, he had been denied since they had met Mindy.

"I have to do the worrying for the both of us. He refuses to do his share." Roger offered a half smile and glanced at the clock.

"Does he run off solo often?" Mindy asked from behind her large mug of coffee.

"Only on occasion. Don't worry; he'll be back soon." Roger answered uneasily.

There was a knock at the door. Roger drew his gun as he stalked towards it gesturing for Mindy to take cover in one of the bedrooms.

He peered through the peephole and was greeted with a set of dark eyes and mussed hair only slightly visible by the porch light. He opened the door and holstered his gun.

Riggs walked through the door in a much better mood than he had been when he left, a large bag of IN-AN-OUT in his arms.

"Hey, Rog. Guess what?" Riggs asked with slight excitement as he stepped into the family room, placed the food on the kitchen counter, and made himself comfortable on the couch. He threw his boots onto the old coffee table and cupped his hands behind his head.

"You've been reassigned?"

"what? no!"

"A man can dream," Roger mumbled.

"Aww, Rog, you're just hungry. I brought food." Riggs pointed to the bag he had placed unceremoniously on the counter. "Damian Parez is now an illegal arms dealer; that's what. And we caught one of the men working for him."

"You did?" Mindy asked in shock. "did you find Damian too?"

"No sign of Damian Unfortunately, just four lackeys and a snitch. One got away and the other three, well, let's just say they won't be talking anytime soon…or ever." He added as he pulled a luke-warm burger from his pocket. The perplexed stares prompted him to pause before taking a bite. "What? it was cold." he shrugged.

"Where is the man you caught? Can't he tell us where Damian is?" Mindy asked overenthusiastically, ignoring Riggs' unconventional behavior.

"He ain't talkin. We might be able to get something outta him, but for now, nada." Riggs offered as he devoured his dinner.

Roger assumed Mindy was just as eager to be done with the safe house and her babysitters as they were to wrap up the case.

The sound of screeching tires and slammed doors outside the minuscule accommodations shot a silent bout of anticipation through the room.

Both Riggs and himself pulled their weapons. As he secured Mindy and led her to the hallway, his partner made his way to the window.

Riggs peered through the opening and was greeted by a barrage of unfriendly fire. He took cover away from the broken glass, his back to the wall and crouched low laughing for some reason.

"Hey, Rog! There are bad guys outside!" He called across the room.

"Thanks, Riggs. I hadn't noticed!" Roger called back sarcastically as he moved Mindy into one of the bedrooms on the first floor.

Riggs fired a few shots at the intruders as they began to surround the outside of the house. The oncoming bombardment of bullets could only have come from an AK-47, The very same model he had been dismantling for comfort hours before.

The little cover the wall had offered had whittled down to almost nothing; he stayed low making his way to Roger and Mindy.

"How the Hell did they find us?! Were you followed?" Roger asked in frustration.

"I would have recognized a tail, Rog. Especially two giant SUV's filled with bad guys!" Riggs shoot back.

"Well then, smart ass, what now?" Roger asked as Mindy clung desperately to the back of his shirt, letting out a small yelp with the sound of each gun fire.

"Now, I create a distraction and lure them to the front of the house, while you get Mindy to safety through the bathroom window." Riggs made to leave.

"Wait a minute! We should stick together." Roger yelled.

"Or, now hear me out this time, we…" Riggs turned on his heal and shot out of the room. A smile lining his lips at the stunned expression he was sure he had left on Roger's face.

He rushed to the door and fired two shots at the men entering the room; he aimed one more to his left before the assailants at the entrance collapsed to the ground. He made his way to the door leaving the three dead intruders to the family room.

With only one point of entry and no alternative exits except for the bathroom window, Riggs made his way out of the house through the front door, stopping short of the doorframe and peering outside.

Two bullets skimmed the wood next to his head forcing him to pull back inside the room. He checked his clip and crouched down once again. He let loose another round from the lower position taking the assailant by surprise.

The sound of the man's cry as the bullet shattered his kneecap was silenced by another to his head.

Riggs sprinted across the front of the house and past the two men standing in front of the sleek black SUV's, their headlights cutting through the night and lighting his way. They fired in Riggs' general direction as he dove behind the short brick fence lining the concrete pathway to the house's entrance.

With the relatively adequate cover, he responded with two rounds in kind hitting one low in the abdomen and the other in the chest.

He made his way around the building to clear the way for his partner and could just make out the forms of Roger and Mindy making their way outside through the moderately sized bathroom window.

He brushed the hair from his face as he checked the area and began the short trek over the grass to reach them.

The crack of gunfire filled the air from behind him; Riggs dove to the ground reflexively and spun from where he lay on the grass to face the sound. Apparently, a shot to the intestines hadn't been enough to render one of the bad guys unconscious.

Riggs returned the round and watched the man drop, this time for good. He got to his feet and ran over to his partner, making sure no one was hurt.

The sound of another vehicle screeching into the street forced them across the yard and into a neighboring building.

"we need a car!" Roger yelled through the commotion.

"There!" Riggs pointed to a cobalt blue mustang sitting in the driveway.

"That will do," Roger replied as he gave Riggs a nod. His eyes widened as he brought them to his partner. A look of horror across his face. "You're hit!" Roger stated as his face paled.

Riggs had been wondering what the tight pulling in his back had been. He figured maybe he just needed to start stretching before gunfights. The wetness of his shirt should have been the next sign that something was off, but he hadn't had a chance to put the pieces together. However, once the awareness of the injury kicked in he found it hard to ignore.

"I don't think this one's a scratch." He jested as he brought his hand over the exit wound to the left of his abdomen. Red saturated his fingers and gleamed in the light of the streetlamps as he steadied himself on Roger's shoulder.

His next step was a stumble and his words a blur as he fought off unconsciousness. When he refocused his eyes, he was being piled into a car. He tried to help maneuver himself into the vehicle, but his battle with cognizance was consuming most of his strength.

He felt the Mustang peel out as someone applied pressure to his back and the side of his stomach, the gun in his fingers becoming harder to hold amongst the blood and sweat now lining his hands.

Suburban streets collided with the highway as they attempted to lose their tail. Roger cut haphazardly between the cars on the road in an attempt to create distance.

"Shit! We won't make it to a station before they catch us. What the hell happened to our patrol?! We should never have been caught unawares!" Roger's agitated and panicked tone rolled through the car.

"I know a place we can go!" Mindy yelled forcefully over the roar of the engine.

"What?!" Roger turned to the backseat for as long as the situation would allow. His eyes darting to the blood saturating Riggs' shirt before returning to the road.

"I know somewhere we can hide out and call for help; I used to inspect old warehouses for repurposing at my old job. We just need to lose these guys. Can you do that?"

"I can do that!" Rogers tone was full of confidence as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"I can help," Riggs grunted as he clumsily reloaded his weapon, a motion performed more by muscle memory than conscious thought.

The shift in weight to position himself partly out of the window was almost his undoing as the edges of his vision blackened. He took a deep breath and aimed his Barreta at the vehicle pursuing them firing a few well-aimed shots at the driver.

The SUV swerved into oncoming traffic before realigning itself unsteadily behind them, the driver shifting to see the road through the shattered windshield.

Mindy attempted to keep pressure on Riggs' contorted torso as he continued to hang halfway out the moving car.

"Get your ass back in here, Riggs!" Roger yelled as Riggs took one more shot, this one landing directly in the chest of the driver.

The black SUV turned abruptly to one side, its headlights slicing diagonally through the night before tumbling over themselves. The vehicle landed in a heap piling up the cars behind it.

Riggs saw its cousin making headway in the distance.

"Put your foot on it, Rog!" He yelled as he shifted inelegantly back into his seat.

"Get off the highway here!" Mindy ordered.

They exited the main road and joined with that of a much quieter one. Riggs attempted to keep track of the many turns as they put distance between the bad guys and themselves. A harsh throb making itself known in his side with each breath.

He drifted in and out of Consciousness with the bumps in the road before they pulled into a large empty lot. An enormous concrete building, much longer than it was tall occupied the space in the center of the property.

Whether they had been driving for minutes or hours, Riggs didn't know. His battle with consciousness finally lost as he felt warm hands pull his limp body from the car.


	4. Loss

Riggs' eyes fluttered open as he fought through the haze clouding his vision; his body lagged lethargically with each motion his mind attempted to generate.

A familiar face cut through the fog, the large brown eyes and gentle smile he had wished to know the moment he had seen them hovered within his grasp.

"Miranda" He whispered pensively.

As his awareness caught up with time the face before him shifted into that of another. His mind was denied a moment of reprieve as a different strain of agony disrupted his thoughts.

Pain was the first to greet him as he took a deep breath. He instantly brought his hand to the source of the discomfort wincing as his fingers connected with the strange material lining his midriff.

"Hey. Take it easy, Cowboy." Mindy soothed as she placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder, her face saturated in sympathy.

Riggs ignored the suggestion and shifted into a more upright position attempting to outrun the uncomfortable projection of concern at his misfortune. The motion took the breath from his lungs giving him something else to focus on.

Roger was at his side in an instant. The concern lining his partner's brow caused a deep guilt to rise in Riggs' stomach.

"What part of 'take it easy' do you not understand?" Roger chided.

"Rog, when do I ever do things the easy way?" Riggs queried as he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, the sound somewhere between a strained laugh and a moan.

Roger paused as if assessing the question, his eyes resting on the dark stain upon Riggs' ruined shirt.

"I'm fine Rog." He added attempting to draw away the unwanted attention.

"I think you and I have very different opinions on the definition of fine. People might say 'I have a cold, but I feel fine' but no one in the history of all humanity has ever said 'I took a bullet through the center of my body, but I feel fine'!" Roger complained.

Riggs observed the handiwork laying across his midsection, a thick layer of towel-like material held in place with a ridiculous amount of duct tape.

"Last time I tried to do that I got yelled at," Riggs pouted, his Texas twang coating his words as he changed the subject.

"Yeah, well. We didn't have Scorsese here to patch you up this time. We had to improvise."

Mindy handed him a bottle of water which he took gratefully, the sight of the cool liquid reminding him of how thirsty he was.

He took a few gulps before offering what was left to Mindy and Roger.

"You hold on to it. I'm going to scout the outside of the building; we don't have a signal anywhere inside. The walls must be too thick. Stay put, okay. Mindy will stay with you." Roger offered as he stood and made for the entrance of the vast empty expanse.

Riggs brought his attention to the old forgotten concrete standing around him as Roger left the room. The walls slightly cracked and crumbling, but sturdy. The barren space was shrouded in darkness except for the soft glow coming from a small flashlight grasped tightly in Mindy's hand.

"It will be okay; we won't let anyone hurt you," Riggs assured Mindy, his mind drifting to the scared woman he had met at the crime scene.

"Are you serious?" Mindy asked, her tone slightly askew. "How can you think of anyone's safety but your own. You were shot attempting to keep me from harm, and still, you put my wellbeing before your own as you continue to slowly bleed out on the floor of an abandoned factory."

"It's my job." He shrugged, wincing at the sharp twinge the movement elicited.

"It's more than that." She paused and locked her gaze to his "Does it hurt so much that you can't help but attempt to escape the pain every chance you get? Is it so bad that you purposely create instances where it will end?" Mindy's words posed in question, but her tone expressed them as fact; as if she was brutally familiar with the prospect.

Riggs didn't answer. He let the thought bounce around his skull; he wished more than anything to end the suffering and longing that had become his constant companions. He wondered how many days, months or even years it would take before the small comforts that made life bearable would no longer be enough.

He had the job, his partner, Trish, and the kids. He often believed the reason he couldn't give in to temptation was that he would be leaving Roger and his family to deal with the aftermath. It wasn't fair to subject them to even an ounce of the pain he felt on a daily basis, but eventually, they would move on. After all, he was just someone who had come into their lives and turned it upside down for a while, when he was gone they would just turn it right side up once more and carry on.

Then there was Miranda; she would never forgive him if he gave up. So, he spent every day on the job searching for the bullet, fast moving vehicle, or leap of faith that would end it all. Always fighting enough to stay above the water, until the one time he couldn't, finally getting what he wanted without giving in.

He brought his eyes to Mindy's, letting his gaze linger.

"You look just like her." He stated flatly, the words tumbling out without permission.

Mindy seemed taken aback, she brought her gaze to her hands and twined them together in anxious motion. "How did you lose her?" She asked quietly. The awkward demeanor she had held so dominantly before faded away, in its place, sat a woman fighting her own battle with loss.

"Car accident." Riggs supplied uneasily.

Riggs' honesty seemed to loosen her own. "I lost my brother. He was young, too young. He never really fit in with the rest of the family. It was like he was made for something different, but if you didn't want to be part of the family business, then you weren't considered family, so he did his part. He never got the chance to follow his dreams, and I will always blame myself for not pushing him to do so." A tear made its way down Mindy's cheek as she spoke.

"I'm sorry." Riggs offered.

Mindy didn't seem to know what to do with the word. She stared at him for a long moment.

"I, I'm going to check on your partner." The vulnerable moment left to the wind as she took two long strides towards the door.

Before Riggs could wrap his head around her rapid exit, a flash of motion caught his eye. A small object made its way through the air, landing a few meters away from Mindy's feet.

Reflex engaged his muscles as he moved with speed he wasn't aware he still possessed. He lunged for Mindy colliding with her stunned form launching her away from the threatening object in the corner of the room. The pain of the movement only slightly present as his mind suppressed all unnecessary sensation.

The percussion that rang through the air accompanied the massive shockwave as the grenade exploded behind him.

Mindy and Riggs' tangled forms gained momentum before landing in the opposite corner of the room. He felt the sharp pang of heat and shrapnel tear through his back as he used his body to shield Mindy from the explosion. They landed hard, smashing against the concrete, Mindy's harsh exhale a sure sign that she was still alive. The groans that followed suggested she was not completely unscathed.

Riggs attempted to push himself up, only to roll onto his side in a heap. The air around him heavy with dust as the concrete spat out its shattered remnants from the blast. A high pitch chime assaulted his eardrums as he attempted to wipe the powdered fragments of the wall from his eyes.

"You okay?" He mouthed as Mindy turned to face him.

She gave him a short nod and looked to the entrance of the room. Riggs followed her eye line to where the grenade had detonated. Its immediate radius a shattered mess of stone and metal.

They had, by some miracle, made it far enough away to survive the blast. He had seen the damage a grenade could do a hundred times over when he had served his country and had no desire to witness any more of it.

Riggs felt a sharp tugging sensation radiate from his back and a familiar warm wetness that never meant anything good.

He heard gunfire from the building's exterior and attempted to stand, failing miserably as he shifted his weight. He could only hope his partner was holding his own as he made a dismal effort to reach for his gun only to find he had lost it during the explosion.

Too many footsteps to count echoed off the crumbled walls of the large room as a group of men with an assortment of artillery entered the broken space. One very familiar face stalked over to his spot on the ground smiling broadly. "Hello, Detective Riggs. Did you miss me?"

"Aw, Damian. Not even your own mother would miss that face." Riggs smiled as the slightly muffled world around him made its way into full focus.

Damian Parez displayed his distaste with a swift kick to the side of Riggs' head granting him the mercy of oblivion as the pain dissipated into darkness.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Bailey stood against the interrogation room wall, her eyes fixed to Barry Carson. The man reeked of piss and cigarettes, his suit soiled and wrinkly. Since he had arrived at the station, he had sat soundlessly in his own urine and responded to each question with a blank and terrified stare.

She was done with the silence and decided to offer him an ultimatum.

"Okay, Barry. If you don't have anything for us, we will just drop you off where we found you. I'm sure Damian Parez will be happy to have you back."

Barry's face paled and his features twisted at her words. He shuffled uncomfortably before looking to the Detective.

"I want a deal, and I want my safety guaranteed. You have to promise I won't be found." Barry pleaded.

"We can offer you protection from Damian Parez and a shortened sentence for ALL the information you have on him." She stated flatly.

"It's not Damian you need to worry about. Just don't let them get to me, I will tell you anything." Barry clutched his fingers tightly in a gesture of self-preservation.

"What do you mean Dam…"

A harsh thump against the door brought her attention away from the perp; she stepped outside the room to meet the disturbance.

"What's going on? I'm in the middle of…"

"Safehouse was hit; we've lost contact with Riggs and Murtaugh. Gear up, Cruz is already upstairs." Avery asserted before turning on his heel and striding rapidly back down the hallway.

Bailey slammed the interrogation room door closed behind her ignoring the calls of a distressed Barry.

She made her way to the bullpen almost running into Cruz as she stepped out of the elevator.

She grabbed her weapon and attached her vest as they rushed to the car, neither one wanting to break the silence with the dark thoughts lingering too close to the surface.

Bailey looked to Cruz; she took comfort in the composed determination that seemed to possess him.

"What happened to the patrol guarding the safe house?" She didn't want the answer, but it had to be better than the unsettling calm that consumed the space around them.

"They found two officers' dead a block over, one garroted and the other with a lethal blow to the skull," Cruz answered without pulling his gaze from the road.

She was right; she hadn't wanted the answer. Bailey stared dead ahead and attempted to still the nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had a bad feeling about this.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Barry had never been an overly brave man; he did what was necessary when, and only when, it was necessary. In reality, the trait made him efficient not cowardly regardless of how others saw him.

He was good at his job and had never made a mistake before. Mistakes made you dead, and he had taken careful preparations to avoid the unfortunate circumstance.

When Ronnie had come to him with a way to double his money he had let greed overcome his better judgment. Of course, selling to the competition while keeping the profits couldn't end any other way. Now he was stuck in police custody, headed for jail, and had some appalling people after him for no other reason than the weakness that had overcome him in that single moment. He wished he could go back in time and turn Ronnie down.

God, he hated Ronnie for putting the idea in his head. He was glad the bastard was dead, better Ronnie than himself.

At least he could get a deal and ensure that none of the Parez siblings could get to him. He had seen firsthand what happened to those that messed with the family's affairs. He was safe here, though, he just had to do his part, tell the cops what they needed to know and get a nice spot in a cushy cell far away from all of them.

He shifted in his seat, the uncomfortable dampness of his pants forcing him to fidget. The detective could at least have gotten him a change of clothes. After all, it was one of their detectives that had almost gotten him killed.

He hoped they all got what was coming to them. Even if he were a snitch, he would be better off than Ronnie. He pictured the best way to make the most of his new situation as the door opened once again.

"Why have I been here this long? I refuse to be treated this wa…" Barry's words were cut off by the sharp grin of Damian Parez' right-hand man, Cornel Varone. The man stood in the doorway as if the space belonged to him.

"Hi, Barry. You look comfortable." Cornel sneered. He slowly walked towards Barry pulling an unfriendly looking tool from behind his back.

"H…h…how did you get in here?" Barry stumbled over his words; his body shook violently as he attempted to think of a way out of the situation, a weak cry escaping his lips.

"Oh, Barry. Let's not do it like this, why don't you act like a man for once in your life. Even if it is only for the last moment of it." Cornel soothed, his voice hauntingly calm.

Cornel was upon him now, too close for comfort, too close for anything but the end.

"No one will hear you, Barry, everyone is out looking for their precious detective. it was easier getting in here than the effort it will take to squeeze the life from you."

"No! I didn't tell them anything, Cornel. I swear to you! The family's secret is safe!" He pleaded between quickened heartbeats, the pounding drowning out Cornel's words.

"But you will, you've only ever cared about yourself. It's your time, just accept it. Don't make this any harder than it has to be." Cornel mollified compellingly as he placed the garrote wire around Barry's neck.

There was no fight, only fear and regret as Barry felt the sharp metal cut into his neck and the burn of his throat from the inside and out.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Roger peered out from behind the old concrete he had been using for cover since Parez' men had pinned him between the warehouse and a dilapidated shed at the rim of the property. He could feel the cold sweat run down his neck and his heart pound harshly in his chest.

He took a deep breath and fired his last two rounds. He heard an abrasive yelp as one of his bullets found its target. He reloaded his clip before lining up his next shot, fiercely aware that the odds were against him.

He only hoped Riggs was doing better than he was. He shot another few rounds to his right before settling back behind the wall. This wasn't good, how the hell had Parez found them yet again?

He had only left his partner for long enough to find cell service. Now, he regretted leaving him at all as he pictured a very one sided commotion taking place in the space Riggs and Mindy occupied.

A violent roar came from the front of the building followed by some loud yelling. A few shots ricocheted off the wall protecting him as he heard receding footsteps from across the structure.

Roger strayed from cover to find out what was happening at the entrance only to have to dive back behind the wall once again. The men were retreating but leaving behind them a barrage of gunfire successfully giving them enough time to get back to their vehicle.

He took a desperate shot from his protected position hitting the closest gunman. The man went down as his comrades left him to the ground.

Roger headed towards the other end of the building taking cover behind anything he could find, if the bad guys were retreating, it could only mean one thing. They had what they had come for. He hurried his pace as he neared the front of the building.

Panic rose in his chest at the distinctive sound of car doors slamming close by. He fired at the tires of the lone SUV as they screeched into the distance, only to watch helplessly as the vehicle sped out of range.

He rushed to the front room forcing down the dread threatening to take over, as he reached his destination he discovered what his gut had already told him. The large space he had left to his partner sat empty, occupied only by the newly displaced concrete and shrapnel scattered across the room.

He let out a curse and pulled his phone from his back pocket as he ran toward the cobalt Mustang sitting on the lot, surprised to see full bars lighting up his screen. He punched the number into his cell and cursed when he saw the slashed tires sitting uselessly under the muscle car.

One quick ring permeated the line before he was abruptly connected to Avery.

"Captain, Parez has Mindy and Riggs." Roger broke the silence hovering over the line "There's more, Riggs was hit. He's in bad shape."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> I apologize to anyone who dislikes cliffhangers; I find them more enjoyable to write and use them often.


	5. Common Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for not updating sooner. The story has been complete for some time, however, I forgot to post it on this site. 
> 
> Thank you to those that commented, without the gentle reminders I would never have remembered to update this piece. 
> 
> Here is the rest of the story, apologies again for the delay.
> 
> Enjoy!

Riggs was greeted by the cold concrete beneath him as his mind attempted to pull his body to awareness. His body compellingly unresponsive as he pulled slightly away from the disturbance abruptly shaking him awake.

A sharp sensation shot through his midsection and up his back followed by a migraine that rivaled his worst hangover numbing the sensation of prodding coming from his shoulder.

"Wake up! Come on, Riggs, get up!" A manic voice attempted to reach him through the haze; it sounded important.

He tilted his head up and offered a muddled look to the three sets of eyes greeting him, the urgent tone of the disturbance pulling him from calming slumber. The faces smeared together until the correct number of features hovered in front of him.

"Mindy? What? Where? What happened." He looked to Mindy's arm secured tightly to her body with a sling, a few fresh cuts and bruises scattered across her face and exposed arms. "Are you okay?" Riggs tone laced with concern and confusion.

"Again, with that? I'm fine. You're the one I'm worried about. I think you have a concussion. I removed a shard of metal from the back of your shoulder and patched you up as best I could, but we have to move now. You think you can do that?" Mindy's clumsy and awkward demeanor had disappeared and in their place stood the assertive woman before him.

He noticed the newly placed bandages and dressings across his stomach and brought his hands up to the butterfly stitches keeping the gash at his temple together.

"How did you…?" Riggs brain couldn't put the pieces together. Had the bad guys given her medical supplies? Why haven't they killed her already? He shook his head to clear the fog instantly regretting the motion.

"Try to keep still; we are going to have to walk out of here. Save your strength for that, okay?"

He offered her a blank stare and looked to the blood making its way through the gauze and bandages across his midsection.

"Do you remember the way they brought us in?" Riggs asked hopefully.

Mindy nodded.

"Okay, good. Look, you will have a better chance of getting out of here alive without me. Go, I will just slow you down." A sympathetic smile crept its way across his face in an attempt to hide the pain radiating through his body.

"You have no idea, but I won't leave you. If you are so intent on making sure I get out of here safely then get up, because I'm not moving a muscle until you do." The command Mindy's tone held was foreign. The cold biting undertone forced her point home as she stared at him forcefully.

"You've been spending too much time with Roger." Riggs groaned as he attempted to stand with the assistance of the wall.

His head spun viciously as he left the floor, the deep sting that permeated his back and up through his shoulder almost dropped him back to the ground. Mindy caught him midway and helped pull him to an upright position.

He half leaned, half stood against the wall and studied Mindy. She looked fiercely in tune with the moment. He could think of many words to describe the woman, but fierce had never been one of them.

His concentration deviated to putting one foot in front of the other without falling as Mindy coursed him towards the exit.

The door was pushed open a crack, then further once she was sure the coast was clear. She draped Riggs' arm over her shoulders taking enough of his weight for him to make small, careful strides. Her swathed arm prudently placed between them allowing her a free hand to navigate the building.

Riggs mind tuned in and out as they made their way through one hallway to the next. The plain white walls merging into each other as the motion of walking and being dragged lulled him to near unconsciousness.

"Hey! Stop that. Stay with me; we're almost there." Mindy shook him back to awareness.

"Oww, no shaky" he mumbled as the white smog subsided just enough to make out the figure of a man turning the corner into the hallway.

Before Riggs could force his battered body to respond a shot rang out echoing through his ears as the man dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Blood spilled from the back of the assailant's head pooling beneath his still form.

Mindy placed the elusive gun back at her side as she pulled Riggs back into place.

"The hell?" Riggs hollered accusingly, the effect rendered slightly ineffective with his legs unable to hold up his own body weight.

Mindy ignored him and kept dragging him forwards.

"Wait!" He yelled more forcefully as he halted and let his weight drop. "What the hell is going on?!" This time he refused to be ignored.

"We don't have time for this! If we don't keep moving, we will BOTH be killed." There was sincerity in Mindy's eyes, and for a moment Riggs wondered if he had ever seen it present before now.

"Gimme the gun." It was meant as a command but lost its pull as he slid to the floor.

"I know you don't trust me right now, and in truth you have no reason to, but I swear all I'm trying to do is get you out of here alive."

Riggs ignored her answer and looked forcefully to the deadly steel in her hand making one final gesture with the cupping of his hand for her to hand it over.

She sighed and placed the weapon in his grasp.

Riggs wrapped his fingers around the gun and raised it to aim past Mindy and in the direction of distant footsteps. His arm dropped to the ground as the muscles in his shoulder gave in to the crippling pain radiating down his arm.

Riggs stared at his useless limb as the Glock clattered to the ground. "okay, you take the gun." He supplied as he attempted to stand once more.

Mindy picked up the weapon and pulled Riggs to his feet. She draped his left arm over her shoulders once again as they made their way down another hallway, leaving the incoming footsteps to the opposite direction.  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
Roger paced the space beside his desk until he felt as if he had worn the tile down a few millimeters. He was frustrated, furious, and worried. How had he let this happen? He shouldn't have left his partner alone and unable to protect himself.

He had arrived at the station disturbed to discover that while he was away, Barry had been killed by one of Damian's men. It seemed this case had thrown the LAPD through a damn loop, set them on fire, and stomped them to death.

"I just don't understand why they took Riggs." He verbalized in frustration. The statement posed to himself as much as those in the vicinity.

"Maybe he got in the way making it easier to take them both." Bailey surmised, forcing the worry from her voice.

"That's not it; they need Mindy dead. Why not just kill her when they had the chance?" His frustration accompanied his loud tone, turning heads not involved in the conversation.

"Riggs took down Damian's brothers back in Texas; maybe they took him for revenge," Avery added, weary of Roger's declining control on the topic.

"That still doesn't explain Mindy," Roger retorted. "And where the hell are they keeping them?!" He roared as his last semblance of control faltered. His outburst dulled as Scorsese rushed into the room, the pathologist stopped dead when he caught sight of Roger ranting mid-Bullpen.

"I can explain why they took Mindy." Scorsese cautiously cut in.

"As you already know, the body of Ronnie Walker was found after a thunderstorm, and there wasn't much evidence that hadn't been washed away by the rain…"

"Spit it out, Scorsese!" Roger prompted impatiently.

"As I was going through his clothing I found the inside of his pants pocket to be relatively dry; I tried for prints even though the chances were incredibly slim. In fact, we were very lucky; it could have been a dead end. But I got a hit. The killer must have wanted to make sure his identification was present so we would be able to link him to the Parez' family, ensuring Riggs would be allocated the case."

"Scorsese!" Bailey, Avery, and Roger yelled in unison.

"The prints belong to Parez."

"We already know that!" Roger supplied in agitation.

"Not Damian Parez, they belong to Amanda Parez, his half-sister."

Bailey flopped into the seat of her desk, her fingers moving rapidly over her keyboard before a younger image of Mindy Delgato lit the computer screen, the name below her reading Amanda Parez.

"Shit! How did we miss that? Bailey, pull up all known properties registered to Amanda Parez or Mindy Delgato. She's been in LA this whole time; there has to be something."

"It says here she was raised by her mother until she was six. When her father found out that she existed, he fought for custody and used his excessively lined pockets to win. When he died, Amanda and her brothers were already adults. They inherited everything; the money, the business, and the insatiable appetite for all things illegal." Bailey paraphrased from the report.

"This explains why our cell signals cut out at the warehouse and how Damian found us. Riggs was the target the whole time!" Roger railed out in unrest.

"She has two properties listed under her maiden name. One's a house on Clarkson Ave, and the other is a large complex on Proctor." Bailey appended.

"Bailey, You and Cruz take the house, Avery and I will take the Complex. Let's go get our boy."  
\-------------------------------------------------  
A few days earlier

Rain dribbled from the sky mixing with the tears and snot falling from the beaten man kneeling in the mud. He was sniveling now, drenched, and pleading between strained intakes of breath.

"Please? Please don't kill me?"

Thunder crackled through the sky and drowned out the man's worthless words. He dipped his head to the muddy ground and repeated his plea.

A swift kick to his chest put the helpless man onto his back, the mud lapping hungrily at the edges of his drenched slacks.

"Ronnie, you betrayed us. You sold us out, and now you have to pay the price." Amanda taunted as she studied the man she had known for four years.

The subsequent sniveling was cut off by another roar of thunder.

"Look, it's not you. It's me; I just can't seem to forgive these days. It's a character flaw, I know, but I'm working on it. I guess I could be trying harder. But, your role in this is bigger than just sending a very precise and gruesome message. You are the first piece in my grand plan. You should be honored to be helping the family in such a manner."

The sharp clap of more thunder and the slash of light across the horizon hid the sound of gunfire as Ronnie's head slapped the sodden dirt.

The rolling thunder was replaced by the sudden slosh of mud and flesh colliding.

She turned her weapon to the intrusion only to relinquish her aim at the familiar sight of her brother ass deep in mud.

"Damian, what are you doing here? I told you I had this." She allowed the agitation to roll off her body with the rain. Her older brother's knack for cutting in when he wasn't wanted was one of his more annoying traits; the fact that he was now drenched and covered in mud was somewhat comforting.

"This one's mine Amanda. My plan, not yours. Just because you couldn't live with Kevin's death and decided to go all recluse on us don't make this one yours. Remember that!" His sour manner forced her to hold her tongue. This was no place for another argument; she reminded herself as her brother fought his way off the ground.

Damian slipped back into the guise of the caring older brother he liked to pretend to be. "I just wanted to make sure your head was in the right space for tomorrow. You have to convince him you are a helpless woman on the run for her life and I have never seen you be helpless." Damian struggled to gain traction on the slick ground as he found his feet.

"I can play my part just fine." She roughly placed the gun in her brother's hands. "since you're here, do you have everything I need?"

He handed her a small canvas bag with a severe glare.

"There's a signal jammer and a pager in there. It doesn't matter where they take you, all you have to do is send us the location. Use the signal jammer if you need to keep them contained." He paused and took a deep breath. "you absolutely sure you got this?"

Amanda snatched the bag from Damian, the look on her face not doing the fury she held at his mistrust justice.

"I got it!" She hissed as she checked Ronnie's pockets for ID. "We're done here." She spoke with finality as she stalked away from the body laying exposed to the rain and wind. Her brother following a few steps behind her.

"Just follow the plan and everything will go smoothly." Damian hissed as he wiped the mud from his hands.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riggs' head pounded with each heartbeat, his back on fire from the remnants of the explosion and shrapnel as the bullet wound to his abdomen shot piercing agony through his core with every shift of his weight.

His legs shuddered as he took one last step, his knees colliding with the hard tile as his body gave in to the fatigue and blood loss he had been fighting off the last few hours.

"No, no, no, come on! We are almost there." Mindy struggled to pull him to his feet, failing miserably as she tugged against his arms, Riggs' dead weight sitting heavily against the wall.

"Leave me." He forced out weakly. He had a few more steps in him; he may even be able to make it out alive, but Mindy had a much better chance without him.

Mindy ignored him, with one final heave she managed to get him half way up, pulling him upright before his knees had the chance to buckle again.

"Well, clearly you work out…" Riggs offered an exasperated laugh as he allowed his body to adjust to its new position.

"Seriously, Riggs! I need you to do your share of the…"

"Why are you helping me?" He interrupted. The trivial moment shattered by the directness of his question and the penetrating stare that accompanied his question.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I hel…" Mindy's tone was dipped in innocence and confusion.

"Cut the crap. I know you're not who you're pretending to be. I'm bleeding to death, not stupid. The first aid supplies, Damian finding us at every turn, you didn't even blink at killing a guy, not to mention the fact that you know this place like the back of your hand. So, I repeat, why are you helping me?" The pain and rapid breath beneath the words did little to blunt the harshness of his statement.

Mindy responded with silence, her body keeping Riggs upright.

He allowed his stern gaze to saturate the moment; he wanted answers, and he wasn't sure he had much longer before he fell unconscious. It was now or never.

Mindy caved at the added pressure, refusing to let Riggs fall to the floor as she spoke.

"You are not what I expected. You should have been indifferent, but you were sorry. You shouldn't have understood, but in honesty, you were the first to truly do so. You strived to keep me safe with the sacrifice of your life…more than once." She paused a moment and pulled her gaze from the floor to line with his. "I should have died in that warehouse when Damian's goons threw the grenade; their mistake would have been my release. I would have been reunited with my brother. You saved my life and made me realize I've wasted my life just as his was. He wouldn't have wanted that; he wouldn't have wanted any of this." Mindy's eyes watered at the admission.

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" She asked incredulously as she shook away the tears.

"Yup." Riggs popped the last part of the word taking some of his own weight from Mindy.

"You're not going to arrest me or anything?"

"Don't have my handcuffs. Besides, the bad guys are coming, and since you refuse to leave me, we should really keep moving." He offered a half smile and took a few steps forwards forcing Mindy to move with him. "so, I'm guessing it ain't really Mindy." He added.

"Amanda." She supplied quietly.

"huh." Riggs tilted his head. "I like Mindy better."

They continued in silence to the end of the next hallway stopping at a large garage door. The press of a button forced the segments to rise in succession revealing the familiar features of Damian Parez.

"Hey, sis." Damian greeted with a devious smirk as he leveled the gun at Amanda's head. "Mind telling me what you think you're doing?"

Riggs felt Amanda's weight shift as she lined her sights on her brother, the gun saying what she didn't have to.

"You know? All those years you couldn't wrap your head around why I wouldn't trust you. It's because I knew this day would come. You and Kevin were too much alike, soft. Not cut out for this line of work. I mean sure, you've killed plenty, but you lack initiative. It's always my plan, my goal, my everything!" Damian taunted.

"None of this will bring him back. He's gone, Damian! I would be too if it weren't for him." She tilted her head toward Riggs.

"I shot the guy who threw that grenade, Amanda! But now I'm wondering why. I told you, you weren't ready for all this."

Riggs half raised his hand pulling Damian's attention away from Mindy. "If I could weigh in here, I think these issues are seeded deep in the sibling relationship; I know this great shrink I could hook you guys up with."

Damian shifted his weapon to Riggs. "How rude of me, hello Detective. You don't look so good."

The corner of Riggs' lips turned up in a mocking smile. "Looks can be deceiving; I feel great. I'm on this new juice cleanse, the veggies really help clean out the system, you should try…"

Damian cut Riggs' ramble short as he fired a round towards Amanda. The impact separating Riggs from his human crutch as they both tumbled to the ground.

Amanda grasped her shoulder in pain as the blood seeped through her fingers, her gun clattering out of reach.

"I know what you're trying to do, Riggs. Classic police tactic, distract the gunman and redirect hostility away from the innocent bystander, but in this case, the bystander is far from innocent. She's killed more people than you have, Detective. Why the sudden change of heart? I have no idea. I guess I will have to take you both out." Damian strode over to Amanda, he kicked the gun further from her grasp and turned to the men making their way across the lot.

"Take them; I want him bound this time. Tie her too; I will be with them shortly." The two men exchanged confused glances before deciding against asking questions.

"Wait." Damian directed to his lackeys as he approached his sister and leaned in close enough to whisper. "I always knew dad should have left you to the hole he found you in, after all, you're only a half Parez." He rose and stared at Riggs. "You want him to live so bad that you betrayed your family. Now you can watch him die slowly." He knelt to Riggs level grabbing his collar and hefting him to the wall. He threw a brutal punch to Riggs' stomach, then another, and another. Damian pulled his fist away from Riggs crumpled form, blood saturating his hand and knuckles.

Riggs heaved as he struggled to pull air into his lungs through the pain. The impact to his midsection leaving his bandages soaked in dark red.

He watched Damian walk away as he was roughly dragged to his feet and ushered back in the direction they had come. Mindy forcefully pushed beside him.

His mind darted to his partner and how he was fairing. A rescue would be nice, but in case it wouldn't come anytime soon, he placed the gun he had stealthily grabbed during his beating into the lining of his coat as he feigned another coughing fit.


	6. Escape?

Amanda had become familiar with the spacious building over the many months it had taken to set up the new arms business in L.A. The space they had been left to held all the empty crates for loading and was just as dreary as the rest of the complex. The large metal chain attached to the steel link in the ground and tethering her in place only furthered her distaste.

The eggshell colored walls and fluorescent lighting were beginning to give her a headache as she pondered what the hell she had been thinking when she decided to save the man responsible for so much suffering.

Damian had bestowed the L.A. project upon her to keep her mind off other things, things that he just couldn't comprehend, and for a while, it had worked. It had numbed the crippling pain from the loss of her youngest brother. However, once the bustle of starting up a new business died down, she was left with the same feeling of helplessness and despair that had driven a wedge between her and her family. None of them understood.

Mindy shifted her gaze from the stripped paint spot she had been fixated on for the last ten minutes, bringing her attention to the detective propped up against the wall of the small room.

He didn't look so good. The army green jacket sporting an old bullet hole at the shoulder hung roughly over his body, his shirt now composing the makeshift bandage at Amanda's deltoid where Damian's bullet had grazed her leaving him with only the dressings around his waist. His head drooped at an odd angle, blood seeping slowly through the already soaked linen. The surface behind him hid the rest of his injuries and held him in place with a chain all his own.

Her arm stung as she shifted her weight into a more comfortable sitting position. Riggs had insisted she dress the graze even though it was shallow. His concern for her well-being even after learning her true identity confused her. How could anybody in such a state worry about anyone but themselves?

"Hey! You still alive over there?" She asked harshly, the concern hovering across the question surprised her.

A stifled grunt and slight shake of his head were her answer.

"not really one for words, are you?"

"Shhhhhh, I'm sleeping." Riggs slurred. He tilted his head back until it rest against the wall behind him with a thud, his eyes poised in her direction due only to the orientation of his position.

"You shouldn't sleep, you have a concussion."

"You have a concussion." He shot back indignantly, his spindly hair flopping slightly over his forehead and covering his eyes.

Mindy grabbed a small cardboard box and threw it towards the injured man with her good hand, the blood running down her arm stifled by the material from Riggs' shirt.

The box landed square across Riggs' forehead. He opened his eyes and glared at her.

"so, sleeps bad but further traumas okay?" sincerity lingered in his tone along with the Texas twang that accompanied the question as he rubbed his head.

"seems that way." Amanda sneered.

"Changed my mind, I am gonna arrest you. If you could just cuff yourself to something sturdy, it would be appreciated." He waived her off and closed his eyes.

"Think that's already been covered." Amanda gestured to the metal link at her ankle.

"Well if you're in such a chatty mood maybe you can explain to me why you're so concerned with my health. You're a Parez after all, shouldn't you be tryna kill me?"

Amanda considered the question; she wasn't certain herself. She could see Riggs' eyes flutter open only to lose the battle and shut shortly after. She decided if talking was the only way to keep him awake then she would do so.

"I told you, you saved my life."

"So, I save your life, and you automatically forgive me for putting one of your brother's in jail?"

"Mickey deserves to be in jail; he's just like Damian. I wanted you dead because you took Kevin from me. I witnessed my baby brother bleed out in that filthy warehouse. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was the only good thing about my family. When my father took me from my mother I was so scared. I adjusted, but I never connected to my other siblings as I did with Kev. He was so gentle and considerate, nothing like Damian. We both did what we had to do to survive, a Parez that defies their father doesn't last long, But Kev struggled with all of it. I took the brunt of his responsibilities so he could keep his conscience clear, it's the least he deserved."

Mindy tugged at the chain stranding her to the floor. When she was content that it wouldn't budge, she brought her eyes back to the intense umber orbs of Martin Riggs.

"When Kev Died, Damian didn't seem to care. I was so distraught; I couldn't function. He never shed a single tear, I know everyone deals with loss in their own way, but it was as if he had put it all behind him. When he suggested we come after you, I jumped at the opportunity to dull some of the pain. But when I met you…you showed me that I wasn't crazy to feel the way I do, that loving someone so completely and losing them so suddenly like that isn't something you just get over. It stays with you, and it doesn't get easier, at least not for a long time. You justified what I was feeling, made me understand that it's okay to grieve. Even though you took him from me, seeing you deal with the same loss as I had stifled the urge for more bloodshed. Nothing I do will ever bring him back."

Riggs was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as if recalling something from long ago.

"I didn't shoot your brother." He spoke softly but with conviction.

The words unsettled her, she shifted her weight, straining slightly against her chains. The words poured out hurried and rigid. Her mouth tripping over them as they flooded from her mind.

"I saw you across the building lining up your shot; I saw him go down. He didn't even have a weapon, and you shot him! Don't lie to me!" Amanda's voice bounced off the walls, the shaken and distraught tone lingering thickly in the air disturbing her further.

"Amanda, I promise you I have only offered you the truth." Riggs' voice was calm and genuine as he stared at her, his features marred by a slight frown, his posture radiating empathy.

"no, I don't…I saw you!"

"You saw me aim my weapon, what you didn't see was Damian behind me. He took the shot that killed your brother. I heard him cock his gun, I took cover, and Kevin took the shot meant for me. I'm sorry, I didn't intend for him to get hurt, I only wanted to take him in." Riggs' hands splayed in calming gesture in front of his chest.

Tears welled up in Amanda's eyes, she may not always have seen eye to eye with Damian, and she had no delusions that he wouldn't kill her after he was done with Riggs for betraying the family, but he couldn't have done what Riggs was telling her, could he?

She shook away the angry wetness assaulting her eyes. In her heart, she knew what Riggs was saying was true. He had proven himself trustworthy to the extent of madness and had done more for her than Damian, Mickey, or her father ever had, in a way she supposed that was truly the reason she had tried to save him from her brother. A surge of fury rose at the thought of all she had sacrificed for a family that had done nothing but lead her into suffering and pain.

"I believe you." She whispered softly. She wiped at the remnants of shed tears as her breathing leveled. "so, what now?" her voice hitched at the realization of their situation, broken in both body and mind as they sat helplessly chained to what would be the last room they would ever see.

"Now we devise a plan to get out of here." Riggs pulled back his jacket reviling the gun concealed within its lining.

Her heart skipped a beat at the hope the cold metal object provoked. "We are chained to the floor, and you can barely move!" She attempted to explain slowly, glad to have company in such dire straits, but unsure what he hoped to achieve in their unfortunate situation.

"Semantics." Riggs grinned as he removed the weapon from his coat and rest it across his lap. "This won't be pretty; it could go bad real quick. You okay with that?"

Amanda wasn't afraid of death, in some ways the prospect excited her. If she couldn't see her brother, what was her reason for staying alive anyway? Maybe in death, she would be reunited with the only person that mattered anymore.

She nodded her head swiftly and stopped the gun as it slid across the floor towards her.

Riggs gave her a reassuring smile as if he his thoughts and her own were one and the same. He seemed satisfied with his choice, and she could only assume that his reasons mirrored her own. He gestured his chin at the gun in her hands and smiled weakly "Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Riggs ass and legs had gone numb long ago, the hard concrete beneath him no longer cold and unsettling. In fact, his entire body felt numb, that couldn't be a good sign.

He remained as alert as his mind would allow, silently waiting for the door handle to move. The task had become arduous as he drifted to other things, another place, a peaceful face…Miranda.

"Hey, won't be long now, stay with me." Amanda's voice carried an empty plea.

"I'm up, don't worry."

She smiled at him, a gesture composed of apprehension and fear.

He didn't intend on making it out of this one alive. The damage to his body was extensive; he wouldn't last much longer. A cold sweat penetrated his bones alerting him to the infection already settling in. That, and the dark shades of red lining the once white bandage around his waist made him shiver despite the coat draped over his shoulders, reminding him of how cold he felt.

He had told Amanda that when her brother entered the room he would distract him long enough for her to take him and anyone else out, it wasn't really a lie, more one of omission. He planned to distract her brother, but he also planned on being enough of a distraction for Damian to shoot him. He wasn't going to make it across a complex full of hostiles, but Amanda might without him slowing her down.

He felt an odd connection to the woman who had wiggled her way into his life through deception, only to save it in some strange sense of emotional justification. He didn't want her to die here, spend the next twenty years in prison? Sure. But she deserved a second chance, after all, she was the reason he was still breathing, albeit not for much longer.

The sound of footsteps at the entrance of the small room shattered his morbid thoughts. He shot a look toward Amanda asking if she was ready with a glance.

He received his answer through the determination lighting up her eyes as she shifted into a more equipped position.

The door swung open revealing Damian's devious smirk as he strode over to his sister. At first, Damian didn't speak, he stared critically at his sister as if attempting to gain some insight into her recent decisions. After a few moments, he seemed to give up.

"Why did you do it? Why throw away everything we have worked for?" he spat viciously.

"Hey Damian, this how you treat all your guests?" Riggs provoked nonchalantly. He scratched his head in mock boredom hiding the effort the small gesture stole.

Damian motioned for one of his lackey's to silence the intrusion.

Riggs' head collided with the butt of the man's gun causing the edges of the room to a blur as Damian turned back to his sister.

He buried his better judgment as he cut once more into the siblings' one-sided conversation.

"You know? If this is how you treat family it's not at all shocking that they end up dead or in Jail." He taunted once more in an attempt to distract Damian from Amanda.

This time Damian strode towards him nodding to the restraints holding Riggs in place. The abrasive manacles were unlocked without question.

The release of the chain around his ankle gave a short-lived reprieve from the unforgiving position his broken body had become accustomed to before he was shoved roughly to his knees.

He felt the steel tip of heavy work boots ripple through his ribs as he was kicked onto his back. His vision faded as he was pulled to his feet, offering a subtle nod to Amanda to stay put as he was dragged to a standing position.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're here because you're upset about your brother? You know, I'm willing to give you shooting tips if you like, that way you won't miss twice." He permeated his words with a laughter he did not feel. Kevin Parez' death was tragic, and one he wished had gone differently, but the task at hand was to keep Damian angry, so he prepared himself for the oncoming barrage as Damian struck him again, this time in the sternum.

The coughing fit that followed brought him back to his knees. Damian pressed the gun to the back of his head. He leaned into the barrel as it pushed into his cranium. He let the pain flood through him, every moment with Miranda washed through his mind as he pictured holding her once more.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the shot rang out. After a few seconds of silence, he opened them again; he could feel Damian standing still standing behind him. He raised his head peering past the mop of hair that had drifted over his face. Mindy lay still on the floor, the gun he had given her sit forgotten in her slack palm, a bullet hole between her eyes.

He whipped around as fast as his broken body would allow and rushed Damian, tackling him into the wall, a visceral growl escaping his lips mid-lunge.

Damian landed hard on his back the gun spinning free from his grasp. Riggs had forgotten the man that had unchained him as he straddled Amanda's killer and let forth blow after blow, his body emptying the last of its energy in a fury of violence aimed at the man's face.

He was forced to the floor before he could tell what had occurred, the room turned parallel as all the pain his body that had hidden behind adrenaline came crashing back to his senses.

He floated somewhere between oblivion and blissful reprieve as his head spun. He could have sworn he heard sirens as the distinct sound of Damian's voice echoed around him.

"Get him up. He's my ticket out of here."


	7. Rescue

Roger rushed out of the car before Avery could pull to a complete stop, sirens blasting through the air as his feet made abrupt contact with the tarmac.

"Have them cover all exits, he's in here somewhere, I can feel it," Roger let the commanding manner of his words roll over the captain as he strode towards the entrance. Riggs was his partner, his family, and as much as he hated to admit it, his best friend. He was getting him back, no matter the cost.

"I'm coming with you." Avery asserted as he followed him into the building.

Roger gave his former partner a nod of approval before bringing his full focus back to the task at hand. He pushed the feeling of dread that surfaced to the back of his mind as he thrust his feet forwards through the empty hallways of the compound. Something was telling him Riggs was here. However, that same feeling also urged him to hurry.

The unwelcome sound of boots across hard floor pulled his attention to the left as a large man with an AK rounded the corner and aimed his weapon towards them.

Roger fired two rounds into the intruder's chest before once again picking up his pace.

He stepped over the warm body as Avery kicked the weapon from the dead man's hands. They navigated through sharply winding corridors that seemed to go on forever until they came to a large open garage door leading into a spacious workshop. The scattering of wooden crates littering the ground created a shallow maze of sorts across the expanse.

"Roger," Avery nodded dead ahead.

He followed the captain's line of sight to the distant figure at the back of the warehouse. Roger could make out the form of one man holding up another as he squinted in their direction, both moving to the exit of the building.

He took off towards the sinister shape, his sights locked on the oddly shifting figures of the two men. His heart dropped at the sight of his partner.

Damian Parez held a gun to Riggs' head as he struggled to keep the man on his own two feet.

"Riggs!" Roger called, more for the comfort he would find in response than the words themselves.

He saw Avery move to flank the pair from the corner of his eye as he took a few bold steps forward.

Riggs' lack of acknowledgment pushed Roger's not so steady heart rate to dangerous levels, the sweat running its way down his neck as he took a few deliberate breaths to calm himself.

"Not one more step, detective. I promise you; I will shoot him." Damian teased as he violently shook his hostage.

"You're outgunned, Damian. Don't be an idiot, let him go!" Roger pleaded as Avery took position across the room. His tone brash and irrepressibly desperate. He didn't like the odds of his partner's penchant for his untimely demise on any given day, throw in a madman that wanted the same thing, and you had the shit storm they were caught in the center of.

"Put down your guns, or I will shoot him! Trust me, the next time he goes down, it will be permanent!" Damian forced the barrel harshly against Riggs' temple eliciting a groan from his captive.

Against his better judgment, Roger released one hand from his weapon and brought the gun away from Damian.

The break in tension was filled with gunfire and shouting as another gunman entered from the far corner of the room and opened fire on Avery.

Damian swiftly shifted his weapon away from Riggs and began shooting in Roger's direction, inching closer to the door with the use of his limp human shield.

The split-second Roger dedicated to finding cover saved his hide as he fell behind one of the many crates breaking up the floorplan. A quick glance to Avery was all he needed to discover that he had done the same.

Roger wondered if his partner was rubbing off on him; in his entire career, he had never felt such a flood of relief as when the barrel left Riggs skull and targeted his own.

A few shots went wide of his hiding place as he waited for a break in gunfire to return the gesture. After a few pops echoed from the front of the warehouse followed by the abrasive splintering of wood nearby, he peered over the crate and aimed at the new assailant. His shots falling short of their mark by a few inches.

Avery targeted the second gunman as the men made headway towards the door.

"Oh, no you don't" Roger asserted to the shattered crate beside him. He rushed towards the exit just as Damian and his partner cleared the door. "Avery, cut them off at the other side of the complex!" He yelled to the captain.

"Roger!" Avery yelled back.

"what?!" Roger asked mid-sprint.

"No, I meant…affirmative," Avery added abashed as he and Roger stilled just long enough to exchange awkward glances before heading in opposite directions.

Roger shook his head taking no extra time in heading down the hallway Damian had taken his partner through.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Riggs attempted to cradle his now completely useless arm to his chest, the gash the shrapnel had torn through his shoulder now freely bleeding down his back and side due to the rough handling by his captor. He shrugged his weight away from Damian as he was half pulled half dragged down the hallway.

The red paint behind him seemed very out of place until he realized he was leaving a blood trail. His mind sluggishly catching up through the blood loss and agony ripping its way through his entire body.

"I'm just gonna, gon sit here for asec." He mumbled as his deadweight slipped from Damian's grasp. He collided with the ground, the hard floor winning the one-sided scuffle.

"Get up!" Damian screamed as he kicked Riggs in the side.

The world exploded in bright white light for a moment before settling back into its regular flattened hues. The colors were loud and pretty. Riggs wondered what kind of shape he was in to find his surroundings 'pretty'.

"Shit, Damian. The other two are coming. We have to leave him." A new voice suggested nervously, Riggs felt as if he could place the man it belonged to, but he had no recollection of the culprit's face.

"Shut your damn mouth, Cornel. He's coming with us until he's of no use to us anymore. Then, I will shoot him." Damian beamed a menacing snarl at Riggs before grabbing an arm and hoisting him as upright as his broken body would allow.

"He's not of any use to us now! Look at him!" Cornel whined as he watched Damian struggle with Riggs.

The familiar tenor of the shrill voice cut through Riggs' sluggish mind as he placed it at the warehouse he had raided the day before. At least he had found the one that got away.

"WHAT, did I just say?!" Damian bellowed as he punctuated his statement with a single shot to Cornel's forehead. "You just can't get good henchmen these days." He spat as he propped Riggs weight against the wall. "Stand up, or I will shoot you!" His words followed by a hash backhand across Riggs' cheek.

"Ur gonna anway," Riggs muttered defiantly before offering a large blood covered smile to Damian.

"do it! Or I will shoot you now."

Riggs was about to add a rebuttal in the form of spitting blood at Damian's feet when he caught sight of a familiar face peering past the corner of the wall, his partner offering him a concerned gaze with a worried crease drawn across his forehead. Riggs suppressed the guilt at the anxiety he seemed to cause his best friend all too frequently.

He decided a distraction couldn't hurt so he instead forced all one hundred and seventy-five pounds into the gunman knocking them both off their feet.

The impact sent spikes through his abdomen and shoulder forcing his eyes to squeeze shut. He pried them open to observe Damian rapidly raising his gun to Riggs' chest as he sauntered over him, probably in response to his terrible hostage manners.

The sound of a bullet tearing through the air was absent of the harsh spark from Damian's barrel, the man falling to the ground at Riggs' knees.

Roger appeared beside him before he could piece the situation together. His partner's face lined in worry and something else.

Roger always had a certain air of apprehension about him, but this time there was something more unsettling, this time Riggs saw fear.

"Hey, Rog. I left ya a trail, like Hansel and…and the other one, you find it?"

"if you are referring to the blood trail all the way from the workshop then, yes, I saw it. You look like shit, Riggs. I need you to stay with me, okay?" Roger asked attempting to mask his concern and failing.

Riggs could see past the fake smile and playful banter; his partner didn't think he was going to make it. The look on Roger's face made the guilt rise and his stomach roll. He grasped his abdomen with his good hand as a sharp bout of pain stole him. In hindsight, maybe the sensation in his midsection came from the bullet hole.

He remembered being asked a question, but couldn't quite remember what it was as he heard the manic call of his partner yelling for a medic. The worrisome sound rolled through the space around him as he fought his way back to some semblance of consciousness.

Riggs tried to let Roger know he was fine, he attempted to comfort him, but nothing came out. Strange rapid breaths forced through his eardrums followed by some broken sentences of voices he had never heard before.

"he's…go…into…shock!"

That didn't sound good. Riggs gave in to the odd sensation of his hurried breath as the white light visited him once more, this time he let its bulk consume him until everything melted away. Everything, but the face of the woman he loved, Miranda.  



	8. Trust

Roger felt a hand press firmly against his chest as he was pushed aside by the paramedics. The scene unraveled in slow motion as unfamiliar terms mixed with melancholic phrases and tumbled around his partner. The busy hands of one paramedic attempting to resuscitate the unmoving form of his partner, while the other struggled to keep pressure on the hole in Riggs abdomen forced the air from Roger's chest.

Ironic, really, that while his partner fought to fill his lungs with oxygen, it was he who struggled to breathe. Roger knew it was stupid to believe his partner was indestructible, and there had been so many instances that proved otherwise. But he couldn't shake the notion that Martin Riggs could survive anything. The scene before him shattered the naive illusion.

A deafening flood of silence crashed into the chaos as the paramedic tending to Riggs paused between compressions. In that horrifying moment, Roger realized his mistake; the factor that stood between Riggs and the very real possibility of untimely demise was his partner.

It was Roger that so often turned the tide between the end of the line and barely clinging to it. Not for his bravery or willingness to jump into danger, that was Riggs' forte, but for his ability to bring reason and the constant reminder that there were people that still needed Martin Riggs on the side of the living.

Roger liked to think that Riggs' every leap from a tall building or moving vehicle, his every dive into a stream of bullets or cattle prod was dulled by a lingering understanding between them; that Roger would never forgive his partner if he left him alone to pick up the pieces.

He couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he had been wrong, that the circumstance of the situation proved that if anything, Riggs' needed him to verbalize the concept. It was his fault that his partner lay sprawled across the ground refusing to return to the beaconing call of the paramedic's rhythmic blows to his chest. His fault for not being there when Riggs was taken, his fault for not seeing through Amanda's guise, and his fault that Riggs didn't understand just how much Roger, Trish, and the kids needed him.

"Riggs! Don't you dare give up, you hear me?! We aren't done with you yet! We still need you, you son of a bitch! I still need you!" The pleading tone of Roger's voice filled the silence and rose above the muted chaos as the firmness of his statement adorned the morbid hallway.

"He's breathing, pulse thready." The paramedic's stern tone and confident movements accompanied the stretcher as Riggs still form was loaded into the ambulance.

Whether seconds or an eternity had unraveled before the welcome sounds of the paramedic's voice, Roger was unsure. All he knew was that with the brief sentence came overwhelming relief and a bitter anger in the realization that Riggs' desire to sacrifice himself in every instance meant he cared little for what he left behind.

The anguish and fear stirred in his gut as he stepped into the ambulance behind the paramedics. He returned the accusatory glare at his presence with a fury Trish would have been proud of and was rewarded with a rapid gesture to the corner of the bus. He followed the wordless order and sat quietly to the side while the two men continued to keep his partner alive.

Roger studied the unmoving body and unresponsive eyelids of his best friend as the study rocking of the ambulance stole him further into the dark thoughts tugging at his consciousness. The doubts and repercussions of reality without Martin Riggs made the space around him feel cold. He let the constant rumble of the road and periodic swooshes of air from the oxygen mask applied to his partners face numb his senses as the sirens shrill call cut through him.

His fingers fiddled with the buttons of his cell phone; his eyes fixed on his partner as he pondered on what to say to his wife and children if Riggs didn't make it.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
Strange sounds permeated the air around him, a constant swooshing noise and the bizarre sensation of air flowing into his chest without his permission. Riggs' eyes remained shut as sirens rung through his skull, not for lack of trying; it seemed as though his body was intent on working on other things.

He had heard his partner's desperate plea for him to come back, he didn't understand why Roger had to be so bossy about it. There had been an insult in there too, at least he thought there had been. The swirling mess inside his mind was as confusing as the sensation in his chest and slightly more uncomfortable.

He hadn't planned on going anywhere, or had he? He remembered Miranda's face as he had meandered in and out of consciousness. The smell of her hair, the feel of her gaze, had she really been beside him? Had she finally come for him? Why was he still here? Surely he hadn't made the decision to stay.

A face similar to the one he had lost cut through his muddled cognizance, Mindy? No, Amanda? She had saved him, and he had let her down, had let her die. He wasn't sure why he was so angry.

He remembered the resolution in his decision to sacrifice himself for her. He hadn't even managed to follow it through. Was he destined to lose every woman he sought to save? There were many, and he wasn't sure if he could remember all their names. Owsley? That was a name, wasn't it? Hannah? Was that another? Did it make him a bad person or just a man who couldn't keep his word?

There was pain, he had forgotten the pain, but it forced its way to the forefront of his mind without pause. Any conscious thought he had previously grasped slipped away as he attempted to escape the immense agony running through his body.

The sharp high pitched tone of rapid beeping was the last thing he heard before his mind finally gave in to the piercing sensation saturating his body.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Trish forced her way purposefully through the hospital hallways; her hand grasped firmly around her daughters as she barreled towards the waiting room where her husband would be. RJ trailing closely by her side and Harper safely at home with the sitter, blissfully ignorant of the torment the preceding members of the Murtaugh household were facing.

Roger needed her; he needed them all and nothing would stand in the way of family. The call had been difficult to hear, not for the words, but for the gravity they held. 'Riggs may not make it through the night,' he had said.

The Murtaugh's were so very close to losing one of their members as the others were thrust into the torment of waiting. Standing idle, helpless, as Martin fought for his life. The only comfort came in the presence of each other and in the hope that Martin wouldn't give in.

Her eyes searched the room for those of her husband as she reached the doorway of their home for some of the most trying hours of their lives.

She knew this place well, it had housed the joy of carrying and birthing the miracle that was Harper, the fear of losing Roger after his heart attack in the delivery room, and the consequential follow-up after Roger's pacemaker had malfunctioned. The emotional rollercoaster that Trish associated with the sterile white walls only intensified as she gazed at the sunken shoulders and tight brow of the love of her life.

"Oh, Roger" She breathed out as she wrapped her arms around him. The sensation intensified as she felt the slightly smaller arms of her children complete the embrace. They stood there together in silent support, not uttering a syllable as the weight of Riggs circumstance settled around them.

Roger was the first to break away; he stared at his family fighting the loose collection of water lining the corner of his eyes. She saw him struggle for control and took his hand in her own, squeezing tightly in reassurance.

"Have the doctors given any more news?" she inquired calmly as she leveled her breathing. She had to control her fear; her family needed her to remain strong.

The slow shake of his head was the only response Roger was able to muster. His gaze stolen away by the uncertainty behind his eyes.

"He's going to be okay? Right, mom?" Riana broke the silent struggle of her father's stolen voice.

"Of course, honey. Martin's resilient and stubborn. Besides, he wouldn't risk my wrath if he doesn't come back to us." Trish let her confident facade linger, hoping that Martin wouldn't turn her into a liar.

"Can we see him?" RJ mustered the question through clouded eyes.

Trish wrapped him up once again and gestured for Riana to join them. With both children safely in her arms, she looked to Roger. The gaze they shared weighed down with the knowledge that what Riggs wanted most in this world was not to be a part of it, but hopeful that they were enough for him to fight to stay.

"Soon, sweetie. I'm sure we will see him soon." She offered as much for Roger as her children.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The waiting had been arduous, and Roger wondered if this was what he had put his family through when he collapsed at Harper's birth. His guilt intensified, now not only from his inability to protect his partner but from the worry he caused his family.

The gentle knock on the door saved him from the downward spiral. The doctor that made her way into the room offered a formal greeting and a smile that never reached her eyes. Her long, spotless, Doctors coat lining a commanding posture.

"I am sorry for the wait; we had trouble stabilizing him…" She paused bringing the clipboard to her chest protectively. "perhaps the adults would prefer to receive the news alone?" the doctor provided with a pensive glance to Roger and Trish.

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it to all of us." Trish asserted firmly as she pulled RJ and Riana close.

Roger offered a half smile to his wife and took her hand. He nodded in agreement and waited for the doctor to continue.

"As you wish," the woman loosened the grip on her clipboard and settled her shoulders rigidly in resolution to the choice.

"Detective Riggs crashed on scene, but the paramedics were able to resuscitate him. There was an instance in the ambulance where he became unresponsive. He was taken to surgery after we found some internal hemorrhaging from the aggravation of the GSW to his abdomen." The doctor scanned the clipboard before bringing her eyes back to Trish and Roger.

"The internal bleeding has been stopped, and he had received a blood transfusion. There were early signs of an infection, I have put him on antibiotics to prevent it from spreading and bring down his fever. Aside from the internal damage, he suffered first degree burns across most of his back, and multiple contusions from shrapnel to his shoulder and upper vertebrae. Most of this was removed before we treated him. However, the damage to the tendons in his shoulder is extensive, and he will require physical therapy to regain full use of his arm. His ribs are badly bruised, and he has a slight concussion." She paused again as if letting the details sink in before continuing.

"He is not out of the woods yet; we are having trouble bringing him out of anesthesia, his chances will increase if he can make it through the night." Her words were dense and harsh.

Roger suspected that years of relaying the worst had not blunted their effect, only strengthened the armor of those presenting them.

He didn't want to face the facts of what he had heard and focused instead on the polished tile lining the floor.

"Can we see him?" Roger asked, balking at the weakness coating his voice.

"He may have one visitor at a time and only for ten minutes or so, he is being closely monitored, and there will be nurses in and out of the Post Anesthesia Care Unit."

Trish looked to him with understanding in her eyes. She brought her attention back to RJ and Riana.

"Let your father go check on Martin for now, okay?" The question more of a statement than anything else. Both children resigned to the notion with no further persuasion.

Trish walked over to him kissing him lightly on the cheek and pulling him into her firm embrace. He let the wave of reassurance wash over him.

"Go take care of our boy, Roger. He needs you." She hummed into his ear.

"I love you." He returned her hold with warm affection.

"I love you too," She left him with a brush of her lips against his and turned back to the children.

The doctor led him to a small room surrounded on each side by doors identical to its own. He made his way inside and felt his stomach drop at the sight of his partner.

"Ten minutes," The doctor interrupted.

He nodded before finding his way to the side of the bed holding the still form of Martin Riggs. Roger attempted to ignore the many wires connecting his partner to the array of machines monitoring his vitals. His hands gripped tightly around the guard rails of the bed as he looked into the closed eyes of his unconscious friend.

At first, the words held loosely upon his lips refusing to move, stuck by the uncommon sight of a still Riggs, a man that usually made jumping off buildings and taking down armed men look easy.

"Hey," Roger frowned at the phrase. 'Hey?' That's the best he could do. Riggs needed him, and all he could muster was 'hey.'

He forced through the stumble attempting to find something else, anything else. He needed to find a way to make him stay.

"I, I don't know if you can hear me. I'm not sure if you would listen anyway. You never do when you're conscious." The silence that accompanied his words unsettled him, the buzzing chime of the medical equipment his only response.

"Okay, look. I'm just gonna come out and say it. You can't leave, you can't leave because the kids need you, Trish needs you." Another pause, more buzzing.

"I need you," a quiet revelation, then a louder one accompanied by the manic hand gestures he was conscious of, yet unable to prevent. "I NEED YOU, RIGGS! There, happy? Cuz it's true. Since you've shown up in my life, I feel like I'm making a difference. We make a difference. We're a great team!" another pause, but the words came easier this time. "I'm afraid that without you, I'll go back to being an old washed up cop who'd be better off with a pension and a fancy assortment of golf shirts. Don't do that to me, Riggs."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A grand miracle where his partner got up and started picking apart his rant, maybe? Anything was better than the silence, and the buzzing, and the stillness.

Roger released a long sigh and brought his hand to Riggs' uninjured shoulder. He gently squeezed, the gesture more for himself than his partner. It assured Roger that Riggs was still here, that he hadn't given up just yet.

"I know it's tempting, I know you want to go, you miss her…" His tone barely a whisper, the mechanical hum barreling across the room almost consuming his words. "But you can't leave, not yet. Because right now, we need you more." Roger was never one to give in to weakness, it led to doubt, to mistakes, to regret. But as he stood helplessly beside his best friend, without any inkling of the internal battle Riggs warred within himself, assuming that his decision would ultimately take him from Roger and leave his surrogate family behind he couldn't help but let the weakness consume him.

He let the doubt and regret drown him; this was his mistake. If he hadn't given Amanda or Damian the opportunity to harm Riggs none of this would be happening. If he had protected Riggs like Riggs had done him time and time again, he wouldn't be pleading with an unconscious partner to stay with him.

He heard the footfalls of the nurse come in behind him, her words drowned into the infernal buzzing and silence that seeped through the small expanse. He silently left the room, feeling as though the hardest ten minutes of his life had seemed like no time at all.

Roger refused to pull his gaze from the ground as he made his way back to his family, something stopped him midway to the waiting room, he instead turned toward the hospital's exit feeling as if some fresh air would do him good.

His decision was cut short with the collision against a familiar shoulder. Roger took a few steps back bringing his eyes from the floor to Dr. Cahill. She stood, shaking off the abrupt meeting and rubbing her shoulder faintly.

"Detective? are you okay?" Cahill asked apologetically.

"Fine, I'm fine. Sorry." He continued towards the entrance hoping to avoid any further interruptions.

"How is he?" She called after him.

Roger turned to face her. "He's having trouble coming out of the anesthesia." He offered bluntly. He wasn't sure what he was looking for or why his feet had somehow stuck to the bleak hospital tile.

"And you?" She pried.

He knew the question was coming, maybe he wanted to justify the way he was feeling, or maybe he wanted to hear that Riggs would choose to stay. He was uncertain as to his motives but made no move to avoid the question.

"You're afraid Riggs has already made the decision not to come back." She stated flatly.

"I don't, how would you know that?" He asked already knowing the answer. Cahill could be a pain, nobody wanted to talk to the precinct shrink, but she was good at her job.

"It's my job."

Predictable, but true. "Okay doc, what if he has? What if we have lost him already? How am I supposed to deal with that? If I hadn't given him the chance to opt out then we wouldn't be in this damn situation would we?"

"Roger, this isn't your fault." Cahill's eyes met his; her features dipped in honesty. The words were what he wanted to hear, but they did nothing to lift the guilt that shrouded his mind.

"I'm his partner, he trusted me to have his back, and I let him down."

"Do you trust him?"

"I, of course, I do. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Then trust that he will make the right decision. Don't count him out just yet."

Roger couldn't muster a response to her words. He instead, turned back to the waiting room and made his way to his family, all the while letting Cahill's words sink in.


	9. Promises

The words fell over him like a soft blanket, a gentle prod urging him to stay, but with the lingering comfort of each letter the rough edges of longing grated against him. He pondered his actions or whether it was the lack of doing that was wrong. Was it even a decision at all? The room felt heavy, it tugged him downwards, each breath pulling him further away from the constant buzzing and beeping of machines too far away to reach.

Still, the ache behind the voice slid under his armor, penetrated the harsh barrier he had set in place. It was easy to lay still here, to deny the waking world. Here he could feel the edge of life fade further away. If he waited a little longer the world he had longed to leave would slip beyond his grasp. No more decisions, no more waiting, no more pain.

Just let go.

Just give in.

Vanish from this place; it would be as easy as laying still.

But it wasn't. There was more, always more. The irritating urge to scratch an itch without the knowledge of its origin tormented him. This itch took the form of clouded phrases just out of reach.

'I need you.'

Who could possibly need a man so broken and incomplete? The voice was familiar, a voice he often tuned out but was always listening for, a voice he trusted.

'I NEED YOU, RIGGS!'

The far off rhythmic beeps and hums found their way closer to his new reality with the grounding sensation of a hand upon his shoulder, the familiar voice growing sharper.

Then it was gone.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Trish studied her slumbering children, each so small and fragile. The cost of loving someone so inept at loving themselves showed itself in the tear tracks cutting red lines across their young faces and broken breaths littering the sounds of their sleep.

Her husband lay lopsided across the hospital chair in the corner of the room; his head propped awkwardly against the wall. She sighed at the discomfort he would wake to, her breath catching in her chest at how it would dull so completely in comparison to the possible pain to come. A pain she would not accept for any member of her family, not if she could help it.

She carefully shifted away from her eldest daughter, pulling the blanket the nurses had kindly provided for them further over Riana's shoulders before making her way to the door.

The hurried shuffle to her destination fueled by the necessity of the visit. A wife and mother with a purpose were not easily swayed.

Martin's room was silent, but for the incessant whine of the machines surrounding him, the constant voices of hospital coming, goings, and footfalls in the distance seemed to still as she stepped through the door.

Trish would never have described Martin as unbreakable, she knew better than to fall into the guise most others bought. Where many saw him as unorthodox and reckless, she saw the hurt that caused it. She saw the pain that permeated the man behind the mask, saw the hidden torment that accompanied every action and every smile.

As he lay there so still, so unable to hold his mask firm, incapable of projecting a sense of strength and balance, she wavered.

The dark bruises scattered across his upper torso contrasted with his pale skin. The cuts that marred his temple and cheek and been stitched, but remained as uncomfortable reminders of the dangers both he and Roger walked into each day.

His wounds, while wrapped neatly away under pristine gauze and bandages, forced her attention to the seriousness of his injuries as she realized just how close they had come to losing him.

She understood what she had to do.

The chair beside his bed lay empty, the room cold and unforgiving. Trish stole the space and commanded the unconscious man's attention.

"Martin, I know you can hear me. I know you are listening." She grasped his hand to make sure he could feel her too, that he knew she was there and had to respect her presence by heading her words.

"Not long after we met you made a promise. Do you remember what that promise was?" She paused not for an answer, but to give him the time to remember.

"Martin, you promised that you would always bring Roger back to me. You hear me? You promised. There are many things you are capable of, Martin, but not even you can keep Roger safe from beyond the grave." She studied the limp fingers sitting still within her hand and brought her own to dust the spindly mess of hair from his forehead.

With nothing left to say she rest his hand back against the crisp sheet. She had done all she could; the rest was up to him.

She needed to be there for her children and husband, with one last longing glance to the newest member of the Murtaugh family she left Martin to his silence, hoping with everything she had that this time, he would listen.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Riggs hadn't wandered far, still caught in the whirlwind of indecision. Grasping lightly to the edge of waking as his body seemed to become heavier and harder to hold above the surface.

He couldn't pin down the reason for his hesitancy in leaving. The source of his urge to linger a while longer was a blur, but something had pulled him back. He hovered just below consciousness, swimming blindly in confusion and darkness. There was pain there too, the physical pain was dull and weighty, but a deeper pain was ever-present and inescapable. Pain that couldn't be dampened with morphine, that couldn't be forgotten. A Pain he had shared with Amanda that had touched Hannah and Owsley and countless others he was incapable of saving. Why did he deserve a second chance if he couldn't do the same for them? Did he even want one?

The guilt and doubt spiraled throughout his murky prison until the sensation loosened its constrictive hold. Broken in part by the gentle caress of warm skin around his palm. The freeing touch rivaled only by the soft yet dangerously persuasive tone of Trish Murtaugh.

'Martin, I know you can hear me. I know you are listening… you promised that you would always bring Roger back to me. You hear me? You promised.'

Trish's words cut through the fog holding him captive. A promise was not something broken lightly, and he would never forgive himself if he could have made the difference between life and death for his partner and wasn't there to do so.

The thought of letting go almost forced bile to his throat. Leaving now would surely make him a liar.

A part of him wanted out, and he was sure he would never shake that. He would never stop longing for what he had lost; Miranda and their child. But a part of him belonged to his partner and his family and in the duty to keep them safe, he had promised, and for that, he could hold on a little while longer.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Roger and Trish entered the room together. Roger held her hand in his as they broke the threshold. He almost didn't believe the words as the doctor had relayed them.

'Detective Riggs has regained consciousness.'

The words that had followed paled in comparison to those that preceded them; he couldn't recall exactly what had been said. Something about a long road of recovery ahead, rest, desk duty, he didn't care. He latched onto the first words the doctor had spoken and let everything else tumble from his shoulders as if a giant stone had been lifted from them.

Riggs' sat uncomfortably upright propped up by pillows, his arm pinned close to his chest with the aid of a sling. The mottled bruising making itself known along his jaw and temple.

"You look like shit." Roger offered in response to the large smile framing his partners face.

Trish rewarded him with an elbow to the ribs for the statement to which he whined excessively.

"I was shot and stuff, what's your excuse?" Riggs shot back, the smile still firmly in place.

"Trish was worried about you, I've been up all night consoling her."

Another elbow followed by the Trish stare forced an amendment to his previous statement.

"…We were worried about you." he corrected, rubbing his ribs.

"aww, Rog. That's so sweet. But you don't gotta worry about me; I'm fine."

"Uh huh" came Roger's unconvinced response.

"Well, I will leave you boys to do…whatever this is. I will be back shortly with the kids. You up for that Martin?"

His smile was her answer.

"Can I get either of you anything?" Trish asked as she hovered at the doorway.

"I'll take a beer." Riggs hollered averting his gaze at the look he received from Trish in response.

Roger laughed at the exchange as he took the seat next to Riggs' hospital bed.

A short burst of silence filled the space between them as both men stared quietly at anything but each other. Riggs mussed the hair grazing the back of his neck as his smile faded.

"So…what made you decide to stay?" Roger worried the question held too much weight as it hit the air. He had just gotten his partner back and already he was pressuring him with psychological questions. He cursed himself for the blunder.

The silence built again until Riggs smile returned.

"I'm too afraid of your wife to do anything that will upset her." Riggs smile hid what Roger knew was still lingering below the surface, but for now, he was content in the fact that Riggs was still on the side of the living.

Their laughter filled the room, and for a moment everything was as normal as it needed to be.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------  
Three Months Later

"You do know you have to actually speak for me to clear you for fieldwork, right?" Cahill prodded nonchalantly.

Riggs lay back across the all-consuming coach pillows; one hand draped over his lap, the other cradled behind his head. The slight twinge in the muscles of his injured shoulder made itself known. The doctors said the pain would recede in time, and for the most part, they had been right.

He left his arm in the uncomfortable position ignoring the painful tug that reminded him of his time with Amanda Parez in the compound that was almost his undoing, of what she had done for him, of the one decision she had chosen to make in the last hours of her life. A decision that, in his eyes, severely clouded the line between right and wrong.

His mind wandered further into the tunnel Amanda had burrowed forgetting to hold the mask firm, his face belayed the pain his body projected.

Cahill was on top of the subtle reaction instantly.

"Your shoulder still bothering you?"

"Hmmm, no." He feigned ignorance. "This couch is just really lumpy."

"I don't remember ever getting that complaint the numerous times you've fallen asleep on it." She chided, unconvinced.

"Huh, I guess I was just being polite. It's awful." He deflected pointing awkwardly at the couch in question. He knew she could see through him, but sometimes it was in her acceptance of his inability to talk that helped him. He had no idea why maybe he was just happy to have someone that knew what he felt and didn't push him to feel otherwise. He wondered if someone like Cahill could have changed how things turned out for Amanda.

"Riggs, do you feel guilty for what happened to Amanda? Because if you are holding onto the physical pain in some misguided effort to honor her…"

"Are you saying my pain is psychosomatic, doc?!" He felt the pang of anger rising and pushed himself away from the soft back of the couch and into a more upright position. There were times when Cahill pushed too far; this was rapidly becoming one of them.

"I am saying that you cannot blame yourself for what happened to her. You are not responsible…"

"Then who is, Doc? Can you tell me that little piece of wisdom? Huh?! Cuz from where I'm standing there's only one person that coulda done anything about it." His voice escaped him; he didn't mean to yell. He hated it when she did this to him. She was getting exactly what she wanted; it was time for him to end the session.

He stalked towards the door tugging his jacket firmly in place, shoving aside the pang of discomfort in his shoulder as he did so.

"Riggs! You need to face this. Amanda, Owsley, Hannah, all of them, made their own decisions, those decisions led them to where they ended up. You can't hold yourself responsible for the actions of others."

"Yeah, well…I can try!" He slammed the door on the way out. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the fact that Cahill had pushed him to face the problem behind his most recent bout of misery or that he had let her do so.

His silent rant was cut off by the blunt impact of a shoulder against his own.

"The hell, Riggs?" came Roger's frustrated greeting as he fussed at the newly formed coffee stain upon his shirt.

"Sorry, Rog." Riggs offered sullenly as Roger threw his now empty cup into the trash.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You're barreling down the hallway staring bullets through the floor and putting everyone's coffee in imminent danger. Not really the best way to show how peachy your feeling."

"Right, well I'm fine."

Roger paused, his eyes portraying the consideration he was relaying on Riggs behalf. Riggs knew that face; it was the face that came before the talk.

"I'm hungry, wanna grab a burger?" Roger brokered under his not so subtle pretense.

Riggs escape was discarded with another look, this one expressing that the suggestion wasn't optional.

He nodded his assent and followed Roger to the elevator. The moment of silence stretched out uncomfortably as the doors closed behind them.

Roger broke the stillness as he turned to face Riggs.

"Bad session?"

"nothing I can't handle" He deflected, knowing Roger wouldn't let this one go.

"something touch a nerve?"

"she thinks I'm blaming myself for Amanda's death." Riggs offered earnestly. Sometimes it was only truth that could save him from the well-intended, yet awkward conversations his partner pulled him into.

"are you?"

"yes."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I thought we were going for food." Riggs nudged begrudgingly.

"we are, normal people converse while socializing and enjoying a meal."

Riggs sighed heavily letting his weight fall to the ground. He splayed his legs outwards, the cold elevator floor cutting through the back of his jeans.

"The job gives me something to focus on, gives me purpose. If I can't even save the people that trust me to do so then what's the point?"

"Oh, we are gonna do this here? In the…okay."

The doors opened to the lobby revealing the confused faces of two uniforms awaiting the elevator.

Roger sighed. "Out of order," He hastily pressed the close door button with an apologetic glance.

Roger's discomfort was ever-present in the way his eyes kept darting to the door. Riggs knew his partner meant well, but if he were going to force him to talk, then he would make sure Roger felt just as uncomfortable as he did. He smiled inwardly at the thought.

"Riggs, you can't save everyone."

"Then why do we do it?"

"Because if we don't, then more than just the few that slip by us will die and the bad guys will have no one to stop them."

"That's it?"

The large metallic doors slid slowly open once more, the two men in uniform had multiplied into a few others awaiting the prospect of heading upstairs.

"sorry." Roger offered sheepishly as he raised his hand in apology to confused and frustrated faces and once again forced the door closed, this time holding his finger over the button.

"That's just the way it is, Riggs. You think you're any different? You think other cops don't lose people, people they are trying to help? We do what we can. Sometimes it isn't enough, but we are only human." Roger continued his finger not wavering from its new home against the elevator panel.

"Okay." Riggs pulled himself back to his feet with the railing running around the elevator and pushed his hair back into place feeling as if he had tortured his partner enough for today.

"Okay? That's it?"

"Just the way it is." Riggs shrugged and took advantage of Rogers inability to continue the conversation, stepping out of the elevator and into the crowd of disgruntled officers and other employees.

"Someone needs to get this guy some help; he keeps messing with the elevator buttons…he's crazy." He giggled as he made his way to the car leaving Roger to face the horde left in his wake, his apologetic mumbling falling upon mostly deaf ears.

"so, what's for lunch?" Riggs asked between chuckles as the footsteps of his disgruntled partner fell in time with his own.

"I hate you."

"aww, Rog. Don't be like that…You need me." Riggs grin widened as he turned to face Roger. A sense of triumph in his eyes as he taunted his partner with the same words he had used to reach him months ago.

"You heard that, while you were unconscious, yet you completely ignore everything I say when you are fully conscious and aware? I can't believe you. What did I do to deserve a partner like you, huh?" Roger's arms flew across the space between them as they neared the car, his frustration in his friend and colleague evident.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon so you may as well get used to it." The offhanded response curtailed the growing frustration in his partner.

Roger slid into the passenger seat, his previously rapid gestures slowed as he took a calming breath.

"what you want for lunch? I'm buying." Roger offered.

Riggs smiled as he set his foot on the gas. "See, that I heard loud and clear."

"Baby steps, Riggs, baby steps."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Thank you for the support. 
> 
> I am new to AOO, and I am still getting used to the interface so if you see any strange alien punctuation, please let me know so I can work on correcting them. 
> 
> Since season one is over, I will be writing a few pieces to keep the Riggs bug at bay. Until next time.


End file.
